
Book .Qt-^g 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



ABROAD AGAIN; 



OR, 



A FRESH FORAY IN FOREIGN LANDS. 



BY 



CURTIS GUILD, 

EDITOR OF THE BOSTON COMMERCIAL BULLETIN, AND AUTHOR 
OF "over THE OCEAN." 



\ 



No...4/.(o.B.:^../^'" 



BOSTON : 
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS, 

NEW YORK: CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM. 

1S77. 



Copyright, 
By CURTIS GUILD, 

1877. 






t'l 



Electrotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundry, 
19 Spring Lane. 



f 



PREFACE. 



Such of us as have longed to " go abroad," remember, in our 
young days, and, it may also be said with equal truthfulness, in 
maturer years, that we have sometimes promised ourselves a good 
thorough gossip and chat with friends who had just returned from 
foreign lands ; and that we were disappointed, even after most 
laborious effort, in obtaining the information which we expected 
familiarly imparted, or, in fact, any except what we knew before, 
and which anybodj' that had perused a reasonable portion of the 
current literature of the day would have been able to impart, with- 
out havine: crossed the ocean. .»• « 

This sort of people have been to Rome. 

" O, yes ! It is a fine old city, and full of interesting ruins, you know." 

" The Vatican ? Certainly. The Pope lives there, and the works 
of art there are truly wonderful." 

"How did the Colosseum look?" 

*' Why, it is oval in form, you know, and a large portion of it is 
ruins — a most interesting place." 

Such are samples of the information you may get from your trav- 
elled iVI id, >«.^o, you fondly imagined, would describe to you his 
experiences and sight-seeings so much more intelligibly than it is 
done in the books. Those interesting trifles which the untravelled 
are so fond of reading about, it must be remembered, become so 
much a matter of course, so familiar to the traveller abroad, that he 
can hardly bring himself to believe they are of importance enough to 
allude to, or of interest enough to put in print. But in these days of 
abundant newspaper correspondence, and epistles from every part of 
the globe by those trained soldiers of the press who have tested every 
phase of popular taste, even that for trifles above mentioned, it is 
hardly to be expected that such an exhausted hunting-ground as 
Europe will yield at this late day much that has not, in some shape, 
been previously presented to the reader. 

The author, on his first visit abroad, notwithstanding his journey 
was over fields that had been trodden and retrodden by American 
tourists, in his investigations for his own information, and his fora- 
ging for facts that he himself desired to obtain, found, upon present- 
ing them, that they possessed a sufficient degree of freshness and 
importance to be most acceptably received by the reading public. 

In this record of a second tour abroad, the reader is taken through 
an entire new series of scenes and experiences from those described 



lY PREFACE. 

in " Over the Ocean." Some time is spent in visiting curious his- 
toric localities in London ; a pen-picture of English home life is 
given, and some of the modern M^onders of the great metropolis are 
described more minutely than perhaps has previously been done. 

To Rome, that ever fruitful field for historian, antiquary, and 
novelist, considerable space has been given in these pages, although 
no author can reasonably expect to present much that is new from 
a field that has been so industriously gleaned. If fresh interest can 
be excited with regard to those wonders of art and classical scenes 
of antiquity already familiar from frequent description, by a new 
presentation, possessing sufficient originality to command attention, 
it is all that at this time can be reasonably expected. 

Although the gayeties of that paradise of many American travel- 
lers, P^ris, are not described, nor the magnificent scenery and moun- 
tain-passes of Switzerland, or picturesque beauty of the river Rhine, 
as in the author's former volume, yet the reader is taken to quaint 
old cities like Verona and Innspruck, and among the lofty peaks and 
glaciers of the Tyrol and Upper Engadine, through the great art 
galleries of Dresden and Berlin, and into that curious country so 
much of whose territory has been wrested from the sea, — Holland. 

Allusions are frequently made in these pages to information sought, 
but not found in the guide-books. While it will be admitted that if 
those publications gave everything everybody desired to find in them, 
they would become encyclopedias, yet to many tourists a portion of 
the information furnished by some of them is unintelligible. This 
arises from the fact that the compilers seem to have assumed that all 
tourists have a liberal, or university education. As regards Ameri- 
can tourists, a large majority of those able to travel abroad have only 
enjoyed the benefits of a common-school education, hence copies of 
inscriptions in antique Latin without translation, names of buildings, 
statues, antiquities, public resorts, &c., given in the foreign vernacu- 
lar in an English guide-book, or sentences in Greek, Latin, French, 
or Italian as the last words of great men, or descriptive of paintings, 
or, in fact, for any purpose of illustration, are to such majority not 
only an annoying puzzle, but a constant reminder of their lack of that 
knowledge possessed by others who have enjoyed more advantages. 
Even the savant and student prefer the most direct and simple style 
of information to any other. 

With this in view, the author has sought to present his thoughts, 
impressions, and descriptions, not only in a graphic and interesting, 
but in a straightforward and simple manner. His foray for fresh ma- 
terial in foreign lands for readers at home, resulted jn the discovery 
of an abundance of supplies ; whether the selections therefrom were 
skilfully made, or are properly presented, it is for the reader to deter- 
mine. . . C. G. 



COIS^TE^TS. 



CHAPTER L 

Unpleasant Eocollcctions. — Doubts Dispelled. — Why Americans go Abroarl. 

— The Voice of Experience. — Sharp Practice. — Picture JIarts. — Union Stores. 

— Tricks upon Travellers. — Hints about Shopping. — Prenez-Garde. — Nota- 
ble Exceptions. — IJugbears of Travel. — Foreign Physicians. — Planning the 
Tour 1-lS 



CHAPTER 11. 

Excursion Parties. — A Specimen Character. — A Yankee Inquisitor. — Turning the 
Tables. — Reiiresentatives of America. — " Jlost Interesting Thing in Europe." — 
E.xperts in Travelling. — Inexperienced Tourists. — Hotel Impositions. — Ser- 
vants and Sovereigns. — Accepting the Situation. — Letters of Credit. — Bankers' 
Courtesies. — Seasoned Tourists. — A True Sailor. — Catechizing the Captain. 
— Steamship Experiences. — Pleasant Days at Sea. — Liverpool. — Hotels. — 
Torments of Tantalus. — The Circumlocution System. — Every One to hia 
Calling 19-A7 



CHAPTER III. 

English Custom r,?. American Kequirements. — Behind the Age. — The "Wonders 
of London. — Old Smithfield. — Historic Grouud. — Wonders of a London 
5Iarket. — The Strand. — Temple Bar. — Chancery Lane. — Itealiziug Dickens's 
Stories. — Historic Landmarks. — Classic Ground. — The Kuiglits Templars. — 
Temple Church. — Scene of Initiation. — Templar Effigies. — Kefinement of 
Cruelty. — Grave of Goldsmith. — The Thames Embankment. — London Bridges. 
— The AVest End. — Kestaurants. — The City 47-75 



CHAPTER IV. 

"U'ell-brod People. — English Home Life. — English Servants. — Lunch. — Englisli 
Stable- Yard. — Dressing for Dinner.— An English Dinner. —The Dessert. — '' We 
will join the Ladies." — Finale of tlie Feast. — An Amusing Blunder. — Au Eng- 
lish Breakfast. — Taking Leave. — English Domestic Service 76-92 



CHAPTER V. 

Catching a Train. — Against RoguKitions. — The Policeman in Plain Clothes. — 
Under Surveillance. — An Uncomfortable Position. — Five-Pound Penalty. 92-'J7 

V 



Yl CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VI. 

A Ride in London. — Old Holborn Bars. — Bowbells and Old Jewry. — The Eng- 
lish Guilds. — Beckett's Birthplace. — Ballad of Beckett. — The Business Centre 
of London. — A Cheap Neig-hborhood. — Five Miles from Charing Cross.— 
Bethnal Green Museum. — Au Admirable Institution 98-108 

CHAPTER VII 

Royal Albert Hall. — Grand Auditorium. — Well-planned Interior. — Costly Monu- 
ment. — Superb Statuary. — Effective Groups. — Statue Group- of America. — 
Art and Poetry. — Prodigality of Decoration. — Elaboration of Art. — A Costly 
Tribute 109-119 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Rome. — The City of our Dreams. — First Sensations. — Reality vs. Romance. — 
Sight-seeing in Rome. —Tomb of Hadrian. — Magnificent Mausoleum. — St. 
Peter's. — The Grand Pavilions. — The Great Obelisk. — The Vestibule. — First 
yiew of the Interior. — Beneath the Dome. — Vast Proportions. — Kissing the 
Toe of St. Peter's Statue. — The Tribune. — Tombs and Monuments. — Marble 
Miracles. — How to visit St. Peter's. — A Village in the Air. — A Dizzy Prom- 
enade 120-141 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Pantheon. — A Glorious Pagan Temple. — Vandalism. — The Capitollne Hill. 

— Legends and Localities. — The Square of the Capitol. — The Wolf of the Capi- 
tol. — Capltoline Museum. — Hall of the Emperors. — Portrait Busts. — Sculp- 
tured Stories. — The Endymion Sarcophagus. — A Youthful Prodigy. — Preserv- 
ers of Art. — Hall of the Centaurs. — The Dying Gladiator. — Marble Faun. — 
Clas.sic Ruins. — Roman Forum. — The Rostrum. — The Nameless Column. — 
^he Arch of Titus. — Arch of Septimius. — Arch of Constantino. — Borrowed 
Sculpture. — The Marmetine Prison. — Trajan's Column. — Unearthing Old 
Rome, — A Pillar of History. — Au Egyptian Relic. — Convent of the Capu- 
chins. — Capuchin Church. — Ladies not Admitted. — A Hall of Horrors. — 
Suppression of the Convent 142-179 

CHAPTER X. 

The Vatican. — The World's Art Museum. — Obstructions to Visitors. — The Pope's 
Guard. — Costumes in Rome. — The Last Judgment. — A Great Artist's Great 
Work. — Museum of Statues. — The Athlete. — Grand Army of Statues. — Price- 
less Art Wealth. — Tiberius CaBsar. — "A Mass of Breathing Stone." — Reading 
Up. — Sarcophagi of the Scipios. — The Boxers. — The Laocoon. — A Story in 
Marble. — Apollo Belvedere. — Lord of the Unerring Bow. — A Menagerie in Mar- 
ble. — Hall of Statues. — Nero as Apollo. — Hall of the Muses. — The Muses in 
■Marble. — A Suspected Character. — Sala Rotunda. — Hall of the Greek Cross. — 
Magnificent Mosaic. — Hall of the Chariot. — The Quoit Throwers. — Fatigue 
•of Sight-Seeing. — The Etruscan Museum. — Ancient vs. Modern Workmanship. 

— Etruscan Art. — Ancient Vases. — The Egyptian Museum. — The Vatican 
Library. — Literary Wealth. — Rapliael's Masterpiece. — Gallery of Vases. — 
Notable Art Treasures. — Hall of Maps. — Hall of Tapestries. — Grand Pictorial 
EiTects. — O'ostiuiles to Eujoymeut. — Advantages of Preparation 179-228 



CONTENTS. Vll 

CHAPTER XL 

The Colosseum. — Relics of the Past. — The Giant of Roman Huins. — The Colos- 
seum described. — Koraau Vandalism. — The Royal IJoad. — Architectural Slvill. 
— A Dream of the Past. — Exploring the Colosseum. — Behind the Scenes. — The 
Christians to the Lions. — Horrors of the Arena. — An Imperial Joker. — Sys- 
tematic Siglit-Seeiag. — Caracalla's Baths. — Aucient Popular Kcsort. — Palace 
of the CiEsars. — Streets of Ovid and Virgil's Time. — House of Livia. — The 
Appian AVay. — Tomb of Cfficilia Metella. — Roman Aqueducts. — Picturesque 
Views. — St. Paul Extra Muros. — Coustantine's Cathedral. — A Struggle with 
Time. — Royal Chapels. — The Santa Scala. — Ascending the Holy Stairs. — 
Temple of Vesta. — Bridge of Horatius. — Guide's Aurora. — Guido and Ra- 
phael 228-202 



CHAPTER XIL 

'The Pincian Hill. — Farewell to Rome. — From the Sublime to the Ridiculous. 
— Venice. — Exploring the By-ways. — Gondoliers. — Scenes ou the Grand 
Canal. — Italian Music. — Heart of the Venetian Republic. — The Voice of the 
Bells 203-272 



CHAPTER XIII, 

A Singular Stor)'. — The Fearful Three. — Gliosts of the Past. — Terrible Dungeon. 
— A Dangerous Experiment. — Venetian Prison. — Mysterious Visitors. — I'ris- 
oner of the Inquisition. — A Terrible Situation. — A Dash for Liberty. — A Cham- 
ber of Horrors. — A Desperate Struggle. — The Foe iu the Dark. — A Puzzling 
Position. — Leaden Moments. — Trapped in a Prison Cell. — A Terrible Night. — 
Dayliglit at Last. — Vain Efforts for Freedom. — Starvation in Prospect. — Ex- 
haustion and Despair. — Succor at Last. — The Luxury of Liberty, — ■' Such Stuff 
as Dreams are made of." — The Lady in the Case 273-297 



CHAPTER XIV. 

The Arsenal .at Venice. — Remnant of a Great Power, — Maritime Importance of 
Venice. — Ancient Armor and W^oudrous We.ipons. — TIic Bucentaur. — Verona. 

— Street Scenes. — Roisterers of Verona. — ^lontagues and Capulets. — Juliet's 
Balcony. — Tomb of the (!apulets. — Tlie Verona Amphithe.itre. — Modern Per- 
formance in .an Ancient Circus. — Delia Scal.i Family Monuments. — A Mur- 
derer's Mausoleum. — Scenic Streets. — Relic of the Middle Ages. — Cathedral at 
Verona. — Church of St. Anastasia. — The Tyrol. — A Night in Botzen. — Ty- 
rolean Scenery. — The Alps again. — Innspruck. — An Amphitheatre of Alps. — 
TIic Golden Roof. — Historic Beauty. — Royal Felicity. — Ambras Castle. — 
Andreas Tlofer. — Spider- Web Pictures.— Tlie Court Churcji.— Giants in Bronze. 

— The Silver Chapel, —A Grateful Picture 298-33/ 



CHAPTER XV, 

Seeking Companions. — Post Horses for St, Moritz. — Mcmor.able Mountain. — 
Perilous Po.sitiou. — Route to tlie Engadine. — The Finstermlinz Pass. — "The 
Day we Celebrate " in the Alps. — Ilocli Finstermiiaz. — Vv'ouders of an Alpine 



viii coisrTEisrTS. 

Pass. — Tnrasp Sprins-s. — The Eng-adine \ralley. — Samaden. — Hans Christian 
Andersen. — St. Moritz. — A Fasliionable Resort. — Crowded Out. — A Miniature 
Hotel. — Scenes at the Spring^s. — Study of Cliaraeters. — Improving- an Opportu- 
nity. — Komantic Ride. — Bernina Brook. — The Morteratsch Glacier. — The 
Albula Pass. — From Mountain to Valley. — The Schyn Pass. — Gate of the 
Via Mala. — The Splugea Road. — Arrival at Prague. — A Hurried Visit. 338-373 



CHAPTER XVI. 

Dresden. — Protection of Art Treasures. — Japanese Palace. — Museum of Por- 
celain. — Streets in Dresden. — The Dresden Gallery — Raphael's Madonna. — 
The Holbein Madonna. — Masterpieces of Great Masters. — Old vs. New School. 
— Art Treasure House. — The Tournament Hall. — Historic Armor Suits. — The 
Saloon of Costumes. — An Aladdin's Cave. — The Green Vaults. — Costly Bur- 
lesques. — Jewels sown broadcast. — Court of the Great Mogul. — Dresden Beer 
Gardens. — Americans in Dresden. — Berlin. — Unter den Linden. — Statuary in 
Berlin. — Old Friends in a New Place. — The Brandenburg Gate. — The People 
of Berlin. — Public Buildings. — Streets and Shops. — Thierg-arten. — Mausoleum 
at Charlotteuburg Z7i-i07 



CHAPTER XVIL 

The Museums of Berlin. — Allegorical Illustrations. — Gallery of Gods and Heroes. 
— Hall of the Emperors. — The Antiquarium. — Classic Antiquities. — Ancient 
Gems. — Antique Coins. — Picture Galleries. — A "Wealth of Art. — Kaulbach's 
Frescos. — The Reformation. — Tower of Babel. — Battle of the Huns. — The 
Greek Saloon. — Unknown Antiquities. — A Monarch 1200 b. c. — Egyptian His- 
torical Halls. — "In Thebes Streets Three Thousand Years Ago." — Prussian 
Historical Relics. — Frederick the Great. — Glass and Enamel Work. — Curiosi- 
ties of Art. — Potsdam.— Sans Souoi. — The Orangery. — A Monument of Jus- 
tice. — Inside Look at Royalty. — The Five Palaces. — Berlin to Hanover. — 
House of Leibnitz. — A Beautiful Drive 40S-443 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Amsterdam. — Dutch Windmills.— Dutch Characteristics. — Canals of Amster- 
dam. — Drawbridges and Canal Boats. — Peasant Women. — Commercial Impor- 
tance.— Canals to the Sea. — Magnificent Public Work. — Dutch Agriculture.— 
The Palace. — Rembrandt'sNight Watch.— Old Dutch Masterpieces. — An Excur- 
sion to Broek. — A Cow Saloon. — Dutch Cheese-Making. — Dutch Farm-House. — 
An Immaculate Village. — The Hague. — Statues and Monuments 443-463 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Rembrandt's School of Anatomy, — Paul Potter's Bull. — Gems of Art. — Dutch 
Historical Relics. — The^" House in the Woods." — Scheveningen. — A Dutch 
Watering-Place. — Magnificent Railway Bridge, — Back to Paris, — Guide-Books. 
— Good-bye to the Reader 463-474 



ABROAD AGAIN", 



CHAPTER I. 



Abroad again ! What ! have you forgotten all those 
■wretched days on shipboard, when, stretched out in your 
state-room, weak from sea-sickness, you longed so much for 
the comfort of your sweet chamber at home, where there 
was no mingled perfume of ocean and oakum ? Home, 
where you could put your foot down with a certainty that 
the floor wouldn't reel away from you ; where wash-bowl 
and pitcher and towels would stay in their places, and where 
everything on the floor didn't slide about, and everything 
hung up didn't swing back and forth till the sight of it 
produced nausea? 

Have you forgotten that vow you registered, that, having 
seen Europe once, you were satisfied, and that books, and 
engravings, and lectures, and descriptions would satisfy you 
in future ? 

Do you remember telling friends that the best thing to 
make one appreciate a good home was to be away from it 
for six or eight months, and that one of the most agreeable 
sights you saw on your last journey was the spires of your 
native city on your return trip ? Do y«u call to mind those 
wretched days in the cabin of the steamer, during the gale, 
when no one of the passengers went on deck but an old 
sea-captain, who was going to Liverpool to take command 

1 



2 UNPLEASANT RECOLLECTIONS. 

of a ship, the travelling ageut of an English mercantile 
house, who had crossed twenty times, and the young 
American who had served in the navy ; and how we all 
thought if we only got ashore, safely this time, we nevei 
would be caught in such a predicament again ? 

Do you know how wretched it was to be ill at a Tyrolean 
inn, with no one nearer than a hundred miles who spoke 
your native language, and a doctor, whose French was 
worse than your own, to attend you ? 

Have you forgotten the swindles of hotel-keepers, the 
fatigue of diligences, the brevity of German beds, and the 
liveliness of Italian ones ; the indigestible messes on some 
inn tables, and the garlic flavor of others ; the bother with 
luggage, quarrels with couriers ; the back-aching inspection 
of picture-galleries, the lies of the valet de place, and the 
omissions of just what you wanted to know in guide-books ? 

To be sure you have ; but, like those bitter tonics which 
we swallow with a shudder, these memories only serve to 
rouse a fiercer appetite than ever. 

The memory of sea-sickness exists but as a disagreeable 
dream, and you feel confident now that your knowledge and 
experience will make you to combat it successfully. The 
humdrum life of home has become monotonous. You feel 
that the first journey to Europe was merely preliminary — 
necessary to teach how you ought to travel to see it 
sensibly. And now you know how to travel abroad, how 
much better and more thoroughly will you see everything I 
Books, engravings, lectures, forsooth ! What are they to 
seeing the place itself? What scores of interesting- things 
you saw in Westminster Abbey, old St. Paul's, the Venetian 
palaces, St. Peter's, among Eoman ruins, and even on the 
Parisian boulevards, that the letter-writers and the book- 
makers never think of writing about. 

Appreciate a good home ? To be sure you do. And the 
very thing you mean to do now is to buy something abroad 
to decorate it with and show your appreciation. There 



DOUBTS DISPELLED. 3 

were those bronzes in Paris that you always regretted not 
taking ; there was that picture in Florence that you find, 
after all, you might have afi'orded ; and those Roman mosaics 
and antiquities, which, if your trunk had only been larger, 
you might have bought ; and then, those — Ah ! but next 
time you will look out for all those things. You mean to 
do good shopping as well as sight-seeing. 

The gale ? Well, that was only two days' discomfort, 
after all ; and how pleasant were the next three days 
after it ! How everybody was on deck, and how the ocean 
seemed to have got smoothed down as flat as a table-cloth ! 
All the passengers were at the cabin-table, and several 
young men, who had been sick till then, absolutely smoked 
cigars after dinner ; and the deck was steady as a rock. 

How the old sea-captain, when asked if we had been in 
any danger, said, " Not to such a ship as this ; " and how 
the agent of the English mercantile house told the lady who 
had vowed "if she only got on shore this once, she never 
would go on the ocean again — never ! " the story of the 
Irishman on shipboard in a storm, who vowed a gift of 
twenty pounds to the Virgin Mary if he was permitted to 
reach land safely, and, being reminded some months after 
of the nonpayment of the vow, shrewdly remarked that 
" the Vargin wud niver " catch him " on the say agin." 

What was two days' homesickness at a Tyrolean inn ? 
One must have a bilious attack somewhere. As to hotel- 
keepers, let them try any of their games on you now — old, 
seasoned traveller as you deem yourself! You know more 
of cafes and restaurants now, and can avoid garlic mes- 
ses without difficulty. Couriers you will have none; and 
galleries and museums you will inspect more leisurely, and 
valets de place shall be made to know their place. 

In fact, when one has set his heart upon doing a thing, 
especially if it be something that he has thought he should 
not do, it is really astonishing what a number of reasons 
he can bring forward to sustain his change of opinion. 



4 BENEFITS OF FOREIGN TEAVEL. 

To one fond of travel, or to a person of any degree of 
education and culture, the European tour is a source of 
never-ending enjoyment, months and years after it is over. 
With how much more interest do you read of events that 
transpire in the old world, that are enacted in the very 
streets or in the historic buildings that you have visited 
and fixed in your mind while sight-seeing ! With what new 
beauty do copies of statues, pictures, and busts become 
imbued, after you have seen the grand originals ! With 
k what fresh attraction is history invested, or even novels, 
the scenes of which are laid in those countries, cities, or 
very spots that you have crossed the ocean to see ! 

Enthusiasm in the returned tourist should never be mis- 
taken for snobbishness, as it sometimes is by those who 
have never been abroad. I confess, before having travelled 
abroad, to have sometimes thought of those who had, and 
who were eloquent over the artistic beauty of foreign 
pictures, the magnificence of ancient architecture, and the 
grand conception that created celebrated statues which they 
expatiated most eloquently upon, over some wretched and 
familiar plaster model, — that their admiration might be 
affectation, and their expatiation bat a parade of where they 
had been and what they had seen more than their less 
travelled listeners. 

On the other hand, there are foreign-travelled snobs who 
are as amusing to sensible persons as the home-travelled 
members of the same genus. The latter will be readily 
recognized as those who are continually telling when they 
were last at Saratoga ; or that General Bustah remarked to 
them in Washington ; or that " our carriage was ordered in 
season for Senator Swyndell's reception." They ask you 
if you don't think Sharon Springs a prettier (!) place than 
the White Sulphur, and if you have many friends at Long 
Branch. " Chawming place, Newport; but, if you'll be- 
lieve it, we took a cottage at Niagara Falls last season." 

The foreign-travelled snob is fond of referring to when 



TRAVELLED SNOBS. 5 

he was in Vienna, or Paris, or London ; and how much it 
cost for the opera ; and of liis having a courier ; or being 
in Rome with the Highbreds ; or " Came down to Geneva 
with Finifines ; " or of the ride he took in the " Bowar 
des Bolone " with Coh^nel Throdice. He never refers to 
libraries, statues, museums, or pictures, except that he may- 
halt opposite one, perhaps, in your drawing-room, squint 
knowingly at it through his closed fist, and ask where you 
" picked that up." This class of snob, male and female, 
travels and visits celebrated places, as it does at home, not 
to perfect itself in knowledge ; not from a desire to see 
localities and historic places of which it has read and 
studied ; not from any admiration of sculpture, painting, 
fine arts, or natural scenery : but because it is the fashion; 
or, rather, it thinks it out of fashion not to have been in 
Europe. 

The lady snob of this class is better posted on dress- 
makers and milliners in Paris than she is on the natural 
scenery of Switzerland, and will be better able to tell you 
of her reception at a ro^'^al "drawing-room," — for which 
she obtained tickets through the moneyed influence of her 
husband, and which cost her no end of expense, — than to 
describe an Alpine mountain pass that she has journeyed 
over, an Italian picture gallery that she has sauntered 
through, or a cathedral that she only remembers from 
having lunched with a party with whom she went to 
see it. 

Another class of travellers are those whom you would 
say, were it not questioning the inalienable right of the 
universal Yankee, had no right to be abroad. And, indeed, 
it might be better for our country if they had never been 
permitted to travel. These are a class of people practically 
ignorant of their own country and its institutions, and whose 
only knowledge about others is that they are " foreiga 
parts," that " Queen Victoria lives in a palace, and the 
Pope of Eome in St. Peter's," and who are amazed to find 



6 WHY AMERICANS GO ABROAD. 

that the people of Italian cities are not dressed like the brig- 
ands in the picture-books, and those of Switzerland like the 
characters they have seen represented at the circus or on 
the theatrical stage. 

The annual spring and summer rush of tourists from 
America to Europe has now come to be almost an American 
fashion, and doubtless there are many who make the trip 
simply to be in the fashion ; but we are not at all inclined 
to join with the opinion of some of our American journalists 
who ridicule and scold their countrymen for spending money 
abroad, laboriously figuring up statistics, showing how much 
American gold is disbursed by American tourists to English 
and Continental hotel-keepers and merchants, and lamenting 
that so large a poi'tion of our means should be expended 
for foreign luxuries instead of articles of domestic produc- 
tion, and condemning the moneyed American because he 
does not expend all his money in his own country. 

Americans who have money to spend and time to spare 
like to go to Europe, because there are more historic, artis- 
tic, and natural sights to be seen, and more easily seen 
there, and also because they can obtain some things which 
are utterly unattainable at home. 

If the American in his own country desires to spend the 
summer at the sea-shore or a watering-place with his family, 
owing to the shortness of the season and the determination 
of landlords to make a handsome profit each season, he finds 
the expense very nearly as much as a three months' trip in 
Europe would cost him. And what has he had for the money 
at home ? Small, inconvenient rooms in a great caravansary 
of an hotel, where the attendance is abominable, the extra 
charges frightful, the place noisy with brass bands, "hops," 
and various fashionable excitements from picnics to prayer- 
meetings, to make the blood more fevered in the heat of 
summer ; while ill-cooked food, the confusion of constant 
arrivals and departures, and the utter absence of any of that 
restful quiet that the body craves, cause him ere the season 



THE VOICE OF EXPERIENCE. 7 

is over to long for the quiet of his own home, and wonder 
why he deserted it. It is not to be asserted by any means 
that there is no discomfort in European travel or hotels, for 
off the great lines of travel routes the same annoyances 
exist as in America, but, as a general thing, at the great 
popular resorts a far more satisfactory return may be had 
for the money expended than in this country. 

There is so much useful information that can be given by 
one who has been " over the route " to those who are about 
to start, and, moreover, as every one who has travelled 
abroad knows, there are so many dearly bought experiences 
that might have been avoided had the advantage of a little 
instruction from an expert been enjoyed previous to setting 
out, that the author feels warranted in commencing" this 
work with a few hints to travellers upon minor matters. 
They are the results of his own personal experience, and 
may be of value to those who visit the localities here re- 
ferred to. First, on the ever prolific subject of shopping 
abroad. Jewelry and pictures, to those who have the money 
to spend, ai'e generally among the most attractive objects 
that claim attention. The price of jewelry in London is 
frightfully high. Geneva is the place for that article : first, 
because of your surety of getting the genuine 18-carat gold ; 
and next, because they are a community of jewellers there, 
and labor and living are cheaper. It should be understood, 
however, that watches can now be made better and cheaper 
in America than in Switzerland. 

Diamonds the Parisian jewellers think they can sell as 
reasonably as any dealers in Europe, but I rather favor the 
honest Dutch dealers of Amsterdam, the headquarters of 
diamond-cutting in tlie world, and where I have seen the 
finest diamonds — not in the royal treasuries — I ever looked 
on, and where diamond-cutting and dealing is as much a 
specialty as watches in Geneva or gloves in Paris. Here at 
Zenten & Jouen's, a solid old jewelry house at 438 Her- 
rengracht, as their Dutchy old card says, I looked ou dia- 



8 JEWELEY AND PAINTINGS. 

monds that were as dewdrops upon the velvet into which 
it seemed they would momentarily sink and disappear. So 
charmed was an American senator with these gems and the 
quiet courtesy of the dealers, that a few thousand dollars 
gave his wife that coveted possession, a pair of solitaires, 
which the Parisian jewellers were compelled to admit they 
could not excel in purity or compete with in price. 

Beware of gold-mounted coral ornaments or gold jewelry 
in the Piazza St. Marco in Venice. The former, which are 
palmed off on the unsuspecting buyer, are often not over 
three or four carats fine ; but you will buy pounds of glass 
beads at the bead factories of the Queen of the Adriatic, recol- 
lecting, however, that the ivory inlaid furniture, at the old 
bric-a-brac stores that guides entice you into, that looks so 
pretty there, will drop to pieces in your own drier climate 
or furnace-heated house. 

London can hardly be said to be a desirable place for an 
American to purchase oil-paintings in. Good ones bring 
higher prices there than in any other city on the habitable 
globe. It appears to be headquarters for water-color 
pictures, which are just now in high favor, and, if the lovers 
of that style of art wish to have their very hair stand on 
end with astonishment, let them ask the prices of some of 
the productions of artists of acknowledged celebrity in this 
line of their profession. 

I am inclined to believe that Americans find Brussels and 
Florence more profitable picture marts than any other cities 
in Europe. In London the wealthy tradesmen and the no- 
bility never seem to question price, if the painting is by a 
known artist, and they want it ; and the prices obtained 
when some well-known collector's gallery is sold, are posi- 
tively astonishing. 

Care should be taken by inexperienced purchasers of pic- 
tures on the continent, to make their agreement to include 
packing and delivering on board steamer at Livei-pool, Bre- 
men, or whatever port they intend their purchase shipped 



SHAEP PRACTICE. 9 

from, and free of all consul, port, or express charges ; other- 
wise he may receive his purchase in America with a very 
handsome charge of extras for boxing, bill of lading, consul's 
certificate, insurance, and even, as in the author's case, from 
a Hebrew merchant, of five per cent, on the value of the 
painting for " reimbursement " or guaranty of the sight- 
draft's passing through his hands, and a few francs more for 
postages. It is almost useless to attempt to purchase any 
good picture that is exposed at the exhibitions in Paris at 
anything like a bargain, as sharp picture-dealers, always on 
the lookout for any painting that is likely to sell, or that is 
from the pencil of any artist of reputation, purchase them of 
the artist, or arrange to take them as fast as produced, or to 
sell all his works through their house. The purchaser is thus 
forced to pay a round sum to the middleman, unless he has 
some friend, familiar with the artists in Paris, who will go 
with him personally to their studios, and find some who are" 
not hampered by any such conditions. 

French artists who have pictures at the exhibition are 
also very much like their shopkeeper countrymen, thinking 
that if a visitor, having seen their production, has thought 
enough of it to come to them with a view of purchasing, 
especially if the visitor be an American, he will pay a high 
price, and therefore often lose a sale by the extravagant fig- 
ure which they put upon their productions, or make one to 
an experienced purchaser at a third or perhaps half the price 
originally charged. 

One sees in Paris, though, it must be confessed, some of 
those superb specimens of the modern school of French art 
that cause him to think that the price which may be de- 
manded is none too great a reward to the genius that created 
them. However, let the inexperienced purchaser engage 
the service of a trusty friend and expert in purchases of this 
kind, unless he is so abundantly supplied with cash as to 
render price no object. 

In Dresden, the beautiful paintings on porcelain and an 



10 PICTURE MA.RTS. 

elegant description of water-color, are sold. " The Choco- 
late Girl," " Kembrandt and Wife," Raphael's " Madon- 
na," " Cherubs," " Madonna and Child," and other familiar 
masterpieces, are copied upon porcelain with that beautiful 
finish for which this style of painting is noted. All along a 
street called the Prager-Strasse" are porcelain-picture stores, 
some of them kept by decorative artists themselves, who 
will copy paintings for you to order, or copy miniatures from 
photographs in the beautiful style of porcelain painting, if 
you give the color of the eyes, hair, and complexion of the 
subject, — at a price ranging from fifty to one hundred 
marks each. But beware of paying in advance for any such 
orders, as the promises of a Dresden porcelain painter are as 
"false as dicers' oaths." 

Rome is so well understood to be a city where pictures 
of artists and works of sculptors, of different nationalities, 
who are sojourning there, may be purchased, that I will not 
go into details. The tourist, if he be an expert in pictures, 
and has an eye for an opportunity, will often find excellent 
ones in cities not specially noted as art centres, but where 
artists live or go, who send forward their works for sale. 
Diisseldorf, Hamburg, Antwerp, Verona, Amsterdam, The 
Hague, Munich, Bremen, and other cities, some of which 
might sound more oddly to experts as places to find good 
pictures, nevertheless produce and contain them, and manj'- 
is the good and rare one picked up off the beaten track of 
fine-art travel. 

English shopping I have pretty thoroughly discussed. 
Although the co-operative stores have not been referred to, 
they deserve brief reference. They are, it will be remem- 
bered, establishments where those belonging to the union or 
society may purchase at retail at a small percentage over 
wholesale prices, and the system has been so far extended 
and perfected that, with some of the most powerful unions, 
large dealers have made arrangement that all members of 
the co-operative body may call at the dealers' regular retail 



TJNION STORES. . 11 

stores, and, on presentation of the card of the union with 
which each member is provided, have a discount of, in some 
instances, as large as twenty per cent, iznmediately taken 
from the usual retail price. 

By this arrangement the union is saved the expense of 
transportation, handling, and storage of the goods, and its 
members enjoy the same benefit as though purchasing at the 
co-operative salesrooms. The dealer, on the other hand, 
is insured a quick cash trade of such magnitude, from 
the number of members of the union, that he can afford to 
sell at a very small profit, the aggregate being a handsome 
quick return, and very much larger than he might have ex- 
pected in the ordinary course of trade at five or ten per 
cent, higher prices. These co-operative unions, be it under- 
stood, are not trades-unions, but simply an association of 
persons who begin by a contribution to start the enterprise, 
hire a store, and employ clerks. Then goods of the best 
quality are bought in large quantities for cash, and sold 
to members of the association only at the smallest possi- 
ble profit necessary for running expenses, and if profit 
beyond this is made, of course it goes back in dividends to 
the members of the association. The plan has been found 
to work well, and the successful stores are such good and 
prompt-paying customers that the great food manufacturers 
especiall}' are more than ready to make the most advan- 
tageous terms with their managers. 

Shopping in London is, on the whole, more satisfactory to 
the purchaser than in any other city in Europe, from the 
fact that all respectable shopkeepers believe in the value of 
reputation, and where competition is so close, wisely believe 
that it will not pay to imperil their business by any dishon- 
orable act. 

The Viennese completely overreached themselves on the oc- 
casion of their great exhibition in 18Y3, In their grasping 
eagerness to make as much money as possible out of the whole 
world that was to visit the Austrian capital, they crowded 



12 TEICKS UPON TRAVELLERS. 

•up prices to such a fearful advance that strangers and for- 
eigners utterly refused to buy ; so that, with a city full to 
overflowing with visitors, the shopkeepers were actually com- 
plaining of dull trade. The hotel-keepers took such advan- 
tages of strangers, in the way of charging treble and 
quadruple rates for rooms, and putting on extra charges 
generally, that government was compelled to step in and 
establish a tariff which the landlords were obliged to have 
printed and posted in every room, under penalty of the law, 
and even then they contrived to evade it. The fact, how- 
ever, of the impositions and high prices upon strangers be- 
came thoroughly known, and there seemed to be a free- 
masonry among travellers to resist it, to such a degree that, 
although, after a while, many shopkeepers put prices down, 
the travelling- public actually refused to buy, or to be tempted 
to purchase even real novelties, and stayed in the city as 
brief a period as possible, and then left it, shaking off the 
very dust from their sandals at its gates. 

It is now pretty generally known that honesty and fair 
dealing on the part of Parisian shopkeepers, milliners, 
and dressmakers, in fact all tradespeople in that gay capital, 
are the exception, and the American who trusts to their 
word, their honor, or even their expressed word of honor, 
will lean upon a broken reed. 

Let ladies, if they buy a piece of silk, always take a 
sample of the piece, a bill of the number of yards, and be 
sure not to pay unless it is measured under their own eyes 
and taken home by themselves, till they have examined it 
after it has been sent home and compared with sample. Be- 
ware of ever paying in advance for anything, as it insures 
your being cheated. Those verdant and simple-minded 
American ladies who go into Paris shops, and, with their 
imperfect school-girl French, inspect goods, select what 
pleases them, and pay what is asked, or, worse than that, 
do as they would at Stewart's in New York, or Hovey's in 
Boston, order ten yards of this, a dozen of that, and a piece 



HINTS ABOUT SHOPPING. 13 

of tlie other, are received by obsequious shopmen and crin- 
ging clerks with an excess of civility, and swindled without 
mercj'^, — served with short measure, charged double price, 
goods inferior to those selected sent home, and every possi- 
ble advantage taken. 

I might enumerate dozens of instances of the swindling 
of American ladies by dressmakers and milliners, their chan- 
ging of trimmings furnished them for others of inferior quality, 
scrimping out from one to three yards from dress patterns ; 
but let ladies beware how they furnish dressmakers with 
materials according to their demand, lest they furnish a 
third more than required ; and always keep a bit of the 
material furnished, that they may compare with the garments 
when made up. Never pa}' for a package of goods when re- 
ceived at your hotel without opening it and carefully verify-' 
ing the contents, and ascertaining that the goods are exactly 
the same in quantity and quality that you purchased. No 
matter how late the hour in the evening, or how far the 
messenger has come, if he brings you short quantity Or 
measure, or infei'ior quality, and promises by all the saints 
in the calendar to bring the remainder in the morning, do 
not trust Mm. His promise is but mere breath, and French 
tradesmen are so thoroughly accustomed to this sort of de- 
tection that they make any deficiency good without a mur- 
mur, and meet you again without a blush or with some 
trivial excuse for their rascality. 

If you are ordering goods made up, or purchasing just 
prior to leaving the city, always, if possible, name three or 
four days previous to the day as the latest you can wait, as 
those dealers who intend to impose on you will contrive to 
send at the latest possible moment before your departure, in 
order to prevent the very examination recommended above, 
and will have the silk dress, or handkerchiefs, or embroideries, 
or whatever it may be, packed up very nicely for Madame's 
portmanteau, and regret that they are so very late, so that 
you may thrust the package into the last trunk or portman- 



14 PKBNEZ-GAEDB. 

teau and pay for it without inspection, as tliey have con- 
trived that many careless Americans should do. 

Ladies who make the rounds to fashionable modistes, 
milliners, and others, should bear in mind that most of these 
people have one of their number certainly who speaks and 
understands Eng-lish, and they themselves, from their con- 
stant contact with English-speaking purchasers, either speak 
it or understand it tolerably well. It is a common practice 
at many of these places, when a shopping party of Ameri- 
cans come in, if any of them speak French, for the milliners 
and their assistants to feign an ignorance of English, in order 
that they may get at the minds of their customers and use 
them accordingly. 

Thus, I have seen a party ask in the French tongue 
through one of their number the price of an article, and on 
being told, confer with each other in English, supposing that 
they were not understood, and agree it was better than that 
they saw elsewhere, or not so good, or if they couldn't make 
the seller take twenty francs off the price, they would take 
it at any rate : every word of which was understood by the 
shrewd but apparently unconscious saleswoman, who made 
use of the knowledge thus obtained to her best advantage. 

A common trick in Paris is to have costumes in the shop- 
window labelled at a very low iigure, tempting the purchaser 
to step in, only to find that that is but a sample, but that 
one can be made precisely like it in a day or two. Of 
course, when the costume comes home, it is of inferior qual- 
ity, or imperfectly made, or the trimmings not equal to the 
sample, in fact, an egregious imposition. But there is no 
remedy : you ordered the goods ; the costume is cut and made 
to your measure ; you have no sample, or witness of your 
agreement; and, " rather than have a fuss," the bill is paid, 
and the tradesman reaps a round profit by his deception ; 
for this is just what they rely upon, that American ladies 
or tourists about leaving the city will pay, rather than 
" have a fuss made about it." 



NOTABLE EXCEPTIONS. 15 

There are, of course, notable and honorable exceptions 
among Paris trades-people ; certain establishments who actu- 
ally seem to have, by some means or other, learned that deal- 
ing decently fair with American purchasers will insure a 
Bteady, profitable, paying business worth catering for. In 
fact, they have probably been surprised at the apprecia- 
tion of Americans of a virtue (honesty) which their coun- 
trymen seem to have no conception of. Encouragement 
of such rare instances may lead others to follow their 
example. 

BeAvare of the Hotel Bellevue in Brussels, or, if stopping 
there, be sure and make bargains, and have a thorough 
understanding respecting price of rooms beforehand. En 
passant, the Grand Hotel, ci-devant Hotel New York, in 
Venice, is an admirably kept house, and in 1813 so honor- 
ably managed, free from imposition, and so much effort 
made to please American guests, that it was really an agree- 
able relief to have found such a place after the many per- 
plexities one necessarily encounters with unscrupulous 
hotel-keepers in various other foreign capitals. Its situa- 
tion is on the Grand Canal, just far enough removed from 
the Piazza to be quiet and comfortable, and within easy 
access to all the points of interest in the city. 

But to return to Paris, which is the great stamping-ground 
for American shoppers. I have tried all the three methods 
of purchasing, and have learned, from practical experience, 
which is the best for one not thoroughly acquainted with 
Paris and not speaking the French tongue as his own. The 
first method is shopping by yourself, by which you are sure 
to make mistakes, take double the time necessary'-, and get 
very much fatigued and dissatisfied. The next method, of 
taking a guide or commissionaire, insures you more con- 
venience, and also that he will cheat you instead of the 
tradesman. The third and only thoroughly satisfactory 
method is through a reliable American commission merchant, 
of which there are several in Paris established for just this 



i6 BTJfiBEARS OF TRAVEL. 

kind of business, and through, them tourists may do better 
than by any other method. 

The European tounst, it may be apropos to say here, will 
-encounter many bugbears in his travels. At Liverpool he 
will learn that London is too full or too empty, unhealthy, 
owing to the fog, or damp, owing to the rain. Scotland is 
raw or chilly, or it's too early or too late in the season. 
Eome ? The malaria is very dangerous there ; never go out 
after sunset. Going to Florence ? It is full of diphtheria, 
Vienna ? Heard there was cholera there. Venice ? Mos- 
quitoes ; or don't drink the water, it's sure to make you 
sick. Munich ? The regular fever city of Europe ; badly 
situated ; everybody has typhus fever that stays there over 
a week, Geneva ? Hottest place in Europe in the summer 
season. Paris ? Never drink Parisian water ; or they are on 
the eve of another revolution : look out not to get shut up 
there. Naples ? Drainage is atrocious, breeds disease ; take 
care not lodge in the city. Amsterdam ? Yes, very inter- 
esting city, but the sheets are often put on the beds damp. 
Going through Switzerland ? Look out they don't give you 
glacier water to drink, it is very unhealthy, Italy ? Yes, 
Italy is a pleasant country to travel in if it were not for the 
fleas. The Tyrol ? Very difficult place to get along in ; 
they speak neither German nor French, and who can under- 
stand their Tyrolean ? 

These are only specimens of the consoling assertions that 
I have received, and doubtless others will receive, from 
fellow-countrymen abroad who have been to the places they 
ascertain you intend visiting, and who seem resolved to give 
you all the disagreeable rumors respecting them which they 
can collect together, and which in nine cases out of ten will 
be found to be either exaggerations or merely the fruit of 
too vivid an imagination. There are certain precautions, of 
course, to be taken during the rapid changes that the tourist 
may make from one climate to another, or from one style of 
food and methods of cooking to another, if his digestion is 



FOREIGN PHYSICIANS. 17 

not perfect ; but these his guide-books and his own judg- 
ment will suggest, without his permitting himself to be 
made wretched by the doubts and fears or continuous phan- 
toms which are so easily conjured up. 

In the great capitals of Europe it is a comparatively easy 
matter to obtain the most excellent medical attendance and 
pharmaceutical preparations. Physicians' fees in London 
and Paris are : five dollars a visit, payable at the time of the 
visit, in the former city, and four dollars in the latter. The 
same price is charged in Rome, that is, by the best physi- 
cian, a gentleman well known to Americans, whose name I 
cannot refrain from mentioning hpre — Dr. Valery, whose 
good oflBces every American who has occasion to require 
them speaks of most gratefully ; and in Venice, if the tourist 
has occasion for medical advice, let him secure the services 
of Dr. Ricchetti, a most skilful member of the medical pro- 
fession, who speaks English perfectly, and is moreover a 
kind-hearted and liberal-minded gentleman. 

No one can tell, except he who may have the misfortune 
to be suddenly prostrated upon the bed of sickness in a 
foreign land, how grateful and soothing, as well as reassur- 
ing and strengthening to the patient, is the presence of a 
physician whose voice is gentle, whose knowledge, as a 
native, of the effects of his climate upon you, as a foreigner, 
is perfect, whose very questions show him to be a man of 
professional skill, and who scorns to make the least pre- 
tension of a mystery of medical treatment, or of the science 
of the profession to patients. Of Dr. Ricchetti's possession 
of the above characteristics, and his skill and success in 
quite a serious case of a dear friend in Venice, I have had 
practical demonstration. In Innspruck Dr. Berreiter, and 
in Paris Dr. Accosta, are physicians whom Americans can 
have every confidence in, if they have occasion to call one. 

One favorite plan of American tourists who have but 
from three to six months to spend abroad, is to start imme- 
diately for Rome, and leave England, to many the most 
2 



18 PLANNIKa THE TOtTB. 

interesting of European countries, for the last portion of 
their visit. The consequence is, that, sated with sight-see- 
ing, fatigued with travel, and their last experience the 
gayety and glitter of the French capital, on arriving in 
England, as the majority of three and six months' tourists 
do, late in the fall, when the air begins to be chill and 
damp, the contrast is unfavorable ; while, mayhap, they 
have lingered so long on the continent that but a fortnight 
or three weeks remain to see that which as many months 
would not exhaust. London is then merely raced through ; 
flying trips to Edinburgh, York, and one or two other places 
made ; an imperfect or erroneous impression obtained ; 
enough seen to make one regret more time had not been 
devoted there, and the tour wound up with two or three 
weeks of such hard work as neutralizes all pleasure of 
travel, and leaves the tourist in ill condition for the return 
voyage. 

The European travelling season commences with Ameri- 
cans early in April, and tourists who arrive in England then 
have time to go direct to Eome, and stay from a fortnight 
to a month before hot weather sets in ; whereas, if they 
commence with England in the middle of April or May 1, 
a longer stay abroad than three or six months must be made, 
to bring Rome into the catalogue of places visited, if one 
wishes to avoid the summer months, and have sufficient 
time to see even the principal sights of the city. 



FOEEIGN EXCURSION PAETIES. 19 



CHAPTER II. 

Foreign travel is doubtless a most valuable instructor, and 
few Americans of average common sense can travel to any 
extent, either at home or abroad, without adding to their 
stock of knowledge and receiving a certain amount of prac- 
tical instruction of real value. But certainly I have met 
American parties abroad as unfit for foreign travel, and who 
would receive as little intellectual benefit from it, as a stu- 
dent in mathematics, who has advanced no further than 
simple addition, would from a week's instruction in a calcu- 
lation of logarithms. 

The cheap excursion system has enabled a large number 
of this class of travellers to visit Europe ; and, although 
not for a moment denying that it has enabled many worthy 
and well educated persons of limited means an opportunity 
for foreign travel and sight-seeing which they might never 
have been enabled to enjoy, yet many of the most outre 
and verdant specimens of humanity that even in our own 
great cities would have excited observation from all, and 
even ridicule from the unthinking, attracted by the wonder- 
fully low figure of a Cook excursion ticket to Europe and 
the Vienna Exposition, scraped together their three or four 
hundred dollars, or withdrew it from the country savings- 
banks, and swarmed into the old country like crusaders after 
this new Peter the Hermit, who preached the attraction of 
the distant capital to them which they were to advance 
upon, and painted the journey in glowing colors. There 
were men from Vermont who had never seen the Green 
Mountains ; from Western New York who couldn't tell you 
the height of Niagara Falls ; an Illinois farmer who had 
never been in any city in his life but Indianapolis, and that 



20 A SPECIMEN CHAEACTEE. 

only twice, till he started on the European excursion trip. 
Great tall fellows, with mourning-clothed finger-nails, who 
chewed tobacco and spat on the marble floors of cathedrals, 
and were the very types of characters which English writers 
have described in their books on America as representatives 
of our country ; descriptions which may have vexed us and 
caused more than one to avow them to be caricatures, over- 
drawn sketches, or malicious misrepresentations. Yet here 
they were in propria persona, stalking through the Vienna 
Exposition, sticking their boots up on railroad-car seats, or 
stumbling over kneeling worshippers in St. Peter's. 

One of this class came into our railway carriage between 
Munich and Vienna, a tall, somewhat ungainly-looking man, 
with the national characteristics of the American country- 
man as prominent as if the word had been painted upon 
his forehead. In the railway carriage, besides ourselves, 
was an Englishman and his daughter, our pleasant travelling 
companions, on both whom the new-comer soon opened fire, 
beginning with the usual fusilade of questions. 

" You ain't an American — are ye ? " 

" No, sir, I am not." 

" English, I s'pose ? " 

"Yes." 

" Going to Vienny ? " 
■ "Yes." 

" I s'pose ye mean to go to the World's Fair there — 
don't ye ? " 

" I think we shall go to the Exposition while we are 
there." 

" What hotel shall you put up at? " 

" We shall go to the Hotel Metropole." 

"Haow?" 

" The Metropolitan Hotel," I volunteered, in explanation 
for my English friend, who was beginning to be amused. 
The dialogue was resumed. 

"0! ah! Yes; I don't understand French; but our 



A YANKEE INQUISITOR. 21 

party — we're the eddicational excursion party — hev an 
interpereter, who goes 'long with us all the time, and trans- 
lates everything." 

Englishman. " Sir, you are very fortunate." 

Yankee. " Yaas. Whole trip from Amerikee and back 
only four hunderd dollars." 

JSng. " Very reasonable." 

Yan. " Big pile o' money fur some on us; but I was 
bound to come. Ever been to Vienny before?" 

Eng. "Yes." 

Yan. "How big a place is it?" 

Eng. "It's a city of six hundred thousand inhabitants." 

Yan. "You don't say so! By the by, Vienny is the 
capital of Orstrey — ain't it?" 

Eng. " It is." 

Yan. " Which way are you goin' when you leave 
Vienny? " 

Eng. "North." 

Yan. " Travellin' for pleasure or business? " 

Eng. " Principally for pleasure." 

[The reader will please to recollect that this is no fancy 
sketch, but a report of a conversation which actually oc- 
curred as here set down.] 

Yan. " What part of England do you come from? " 

Eng. " The city of London." 

Yan. " In business there?" 

Eng. "No, sir, I am not." 

Yan. " Carryin' on any business out of town?" 

Eng. " No, sir." 

Yan. " What is your business when you are to home?" 

Eng. " I am not in any business." 

Yan. "0! Retired?" 

Eng. " Yes." 

[One would have thought that the American, having now 
run his quarry completely down, would have " retired " 
also ; but no, he returned to the charge again.] 



22 TtTESriNG THE TABLES. 

Yan. " What business was you in before you retired?" 

JEng. "I was a book publisher." 

Yaji. " In business long? " 

Ung, " Forty years." 

Yan. " Wal, you've got some time yet to enjoy yourself. 
How old do you call yourself?" 

[At this point the good-natured Briton, who had been 
more amused than vexed by this impertinent catechism, 
changed his tactics, and replied to his interrogator's last 
question in the true American style, by asking another, and 
continued to follow him up after the same fashion he had 
been attacked himself, as follows:] 

Eng. " How old should you think me?" 

Yan. " Wal, about a marter of sixty-five or seven." 

Eng. " How old are you?" 

Yan. " Give a guess." 

Eng. " Forty-two. Are you an ximerican ? " 

Tan. " Yes, sir!" straightening up. 

Eng. "In what part of America were you born?" 

Yan. " Wal, I was raised in Vermont, but I moved to 
Elmiry, New York." 

Eng. " Married?" 

Yan. " Yes, sir; mei-ried when I was twenty-five." 

Eng. " Any children ? " 

Yan. "No, sir; never hed none." 

Eng. " Wife travelling with you ? " 

Yan. " No, sir. I'm a widower." 

Eng. " Ah ! Excuse me ; but what's your business when 
you are at home ? " 

Yan. " I'm a milkman — I carry round milk." 

Eng. (smiling). "But what will your customers do for 
milk while you are away ? " 

Yan. " 0, I sold out my route, which was a good one, 
fur five hunderd dollars, and took four on't and bought one 
of them Cook tickets to come out here to the Vienny Exhi- 
bition." 



*MALAPKOP' BLUNDERS. 23 

This milk revelation was too much for me, who had been 
stifling my laughter by every possible device, as the unmer- 
ciful Englishman went on with his quizzing of the enemy, 
and at this point I was compelled to seek relief in an explo- 
sion of laughter, in which he joined, and, to our no small 
astonishment, the milkman also, who remarked that it was 
a good joke, and he " guessed the feller that bought the 
route would hev easier work deliverin' milk to some of his 
customers than collectin' their bills." 

The above dialogue was no fancy sketch, and its hero 
was an actual sample of an American excursionist, and it is 
not the only one of this description either, that the facilities 
of travel, the cheap ticket system, and Vienna Exhibition 
attracted from their native land ; for I have encountered 
several others equally amusing. One who rushed up to the 
carriage of a party of us who were leaving the hotel, to say 
that he was going to travel with a currier, and, so far from 
seeing the point when asked by a gentleman if he wanted 
to improve his acquaintance in the leather trade, seriously 
replied he never had any dealings in that line. Another, in 
Eome, on being asked to join a party to visit the Colosseum, 
replied, " Colosseum, what's that?" 

" Why, the old Roman circus, you know." 

" 0, 3'es ! Is there a performance this evening? What 
time does it begin ? " 

An explanation that the circus referred to was unlike the 
modern one with horses, clowns, and acrobats, had to be 
gently hinted to this ambitious sight-seer, to prevent misap- 
prehension and disappointment. 

The author may be permitted, perhaps, to cite another 
case, more mortifying because of its prominence. The 
daughter of an American official at a soiree, and in presence 
of several English people of high social and official position, 
upon being asked how she liked England, replied that " the 
country was well enough, but the people were not polite." 
Eegret was expressed that the young lady had been disap- 
pointed in this particular, when she continued : 



24 EEPEESENTATIVES OF AMERICA. 

"Why, I've been in England all through May and June, 
and never been bunched once ! " 

Some, even of her American aiiditors, were taken aback 
by this, to them, untranslatable expression ; and the good 
breeding of the English ones could scarce repress a smile. 

It transpired, however, that being " bunched " signified, 
in western or southern parlance, the reception of a bouquet 
or "bunch" of flowers. 

I would not speak thus in mere ridicule of many of these 
my countrymen, kn^owing that at home they are the bone 
and sinew of the countiy ; but it is sometimes annoying that 
educated Englishmen, and men of high position and culture 
even, who have seldom met Americans, take such as above 
described to be the representatives of our American ladies 
and gentlemen of culture, and have the impressions that 
have been created by the stories of satirical or scurrilous 
travellers crystallized into absolute faith by these examples. 

Is it any wonder that after meeting a few such people as 
these, besides innumerable Americans in every foreign cap- 
ital ; finding your countrymen rushing from a train or a 
diligence in Switzerland for the best rooms at an inn, ^s 
summer tourists do at home ; or the meeting of persons 
whom you hardly thought could afford to visit Washington 
or the White Mountains, meandering about the streets of 
St. Petersburg, or staring at statuary in the Vatican, that 
you begin to think that going to Europe isn't so great an 
undertaking after all ? 

And, really, with such almost guaranteed safety as is now 
given by the excellent management of the principal steam- 
ship lines, it is not such a formidable undertaking as many 
think it, by any means. 

Then, if you don't practise it yourself, you may have oc- 
casion to smile at the affectation of the young lady at the 
party, who says she got the bracelet when she was last in 
Paris, or who, in reply to your inquiry • about her visit 
abroad, says that she has never " crossed " but twice, when 



" MOST INTERESTING THING IN EUROPE." 25 

you learn that the last was the only time that she was in the 
gay capital, and that " crossing twice " means once over 
and once back, a piece of fashionable deception supposed, 
perhaps, if successful, to add to the reputation of the utterer 
as an extensive traveller, and arguing a thorough familiarity 
with foreign lands. Then there are others who have been 
over the same route as yourself, eager to compare notes, 
and you will find anxious to impress you that they have seen 
something that escaped your notice, and that that one es- 
pecial object, in their opinion, is the only one worth crossing 
the ocean to see. You are put through the usual round of 
questions by these newly-returned ones, such as, — 

" Did you go to Edinburgh Castle ? " 

"Yes." 

" See the room where Rizzio was killed ? " 

"Yes." 

" You went to Dresden, I suppose ? " 

" Certainly." 

" Saw the green vaults — didn't you ? " 

" 0, yes ; we visited them several times." 

" Did you see that ostrich-egg cup set in jewels ? " 

" Remember it perfectly." 

" Rome is an interesting city — isn't it? " 

" Indeed it is." 

"Did you go into the catacombs while you were there ? " 

" But a short distance ; we had not time." 

" ! you don't know what you missed. It's the most 
interesting thing in the whole city ; there's nothing like it 
anywhere in Europe. Why, I'm astonished you didn't see 
all the catacombs," &c. 

I used to feel somewhat mortified at my omissions when 
I first heard remarks of this kind, till I found that the 
utterers of them were the most superficial of travellers, and 
only laid these traps to discover something with which I 
was not familiar, in order that they might expatiate and en- 
large upon it freely and with perfect safety, so that, while 



26 EXPERTS IN TEAYELLING. 

they maintained a discreet silence upon what we both 
acknowledged to have seen, they were more eloquent upon 
that which had escaped the listener's notice. This may be 
the safest course, perhaps, with some travellers. 

If one has had much experience as a tourist, and has any 
habits of observation, he soon begins to study character, not 
only in the peoples of foreign countries, but in those of his 
own countrymen with whom he is thrown in contact in the 
great travelled routes abroad, now so thoroughly traversed 
by Americans. The old and experienced traveller is de- 
tected at a glance by the matter-of-fact way in which he 
takes all inconveniences, and the readiness with which he 
adapts himself to any unavoidable exigences which may 
arise. He is slow to find fault, but quick to check or avoid 
imposition ; ready to adapt himself to the customs of the 
country as far as possible, and does not expect that every- 
thing will be arranged by hotel-keepers, railroads, and shop- 
keepers abroad according to the custom of his native land. 

Much of the misunderstanding, difficulty, and discomfort 
of foreign travel with many tourists abroad arises from the 
fact that they expect, although manners, customs, and meth- 
ods of transacting business are different from theirs, that 
they have only to pay money to cause an entire change of 
those methods to their own, or that the difference which they 
observe is an evidence of a lower scale of intelligence of the 
people. 

There are also certain people who fancy that the payment of 
a sum of money not only entitles them to the most comfortable 
seat in a railway carriage, the best place at the hotel table, 
the first choice of apartments, the most convenient state- 
room on board ship, and the first and exclusive attention of 
conductors, landlords, captains, and officials, but that it 
makes them of better clay than ordinary mortals, who 
should stand aside in deferential awe until their superior 
wants have been satisfied. 

This class are also the most persistent of fault-finders. 



INEXPERIENCED TOURISTS. 27 

They go abroad with the expectation of being more comfort- 
able than at home ; are unwilling to encounter even the 
necessary discomforts of travel, and not only fret, fume, and 
worry themselves into a state of unnecessary discomfort, 
but are annoying to all with whom they come in contact. 

There is another class of Americans who seem to have an 
idea that, having a certain amount of money to spend, they 
should disburse it in the most expeditious and lavish man- 
ner possible. For the reason, may be, that having hoarded 
or striven for years for this dream of their life, — a visit to 
Europe, — they are determined to make up for a long period 
of abstemiousness, in the matter of expenditure, by a short 
and merry one of unrestrained extravagance. This last 
class take life pretty much as it comes, scatter their money 
right and left, are an easy prey to swindling couriers, grasp- 
ing landlords, cheating shopkeepers, and the horde of dif- 
ferent grades of chevaliers d'industrie who have come to look, 
and with good reason, upon the American tourist as their 
legitimate prey, and who feed fat upon the credulity and 
simplicity of the swarms of fresh innocents that each suc- 
ceeding year fall into their clutches. 

These two classes of travellers, the one ai-rogant and 
self-sufficient, demanding more than he is entitled to, the 
other lavish and careless, and actually not receiving what 
he more than pays for, have made the great travelled routes 
of Europe somewhat less pleasant to the average man of 
the world, travelling for recreation or instruction, who de- 
sires a fair value received for his expenditure, and who will 
in no case suffer the attempted imposition of any class of 
officials to pass unheeded or unrebuked, lest by so doing 
they may be repeated upon those who come after him. 

American tourists, as a class, are generous in expendi- 
tures ; and this is thoroughly understood by the shopkeep- 
ers of Regent Street, the cringing cheats on the Boulevards, 
and the brazen liars of Vienna and Venice, so that it has 
come to be a proverb with them, " As rich as an American." 



28 HOTEL IMPOSITIONS. 

Indeed, a friend has told me that in a little French read- 
ing-book, or primer, which he examined, one of the sentences 
or exercises read, " The Americans are very rich." The 
newly fledged tourist, on his first visit to Europe, endeavors 
sometimes to assume the blase air of one who is " used to 
all that sort of thing, j'ou know ; " pays always what is 
charged, — sure sign of an American, — and believes, until 
taught by bitter experience, that Frenchmen tell the truth. 

Many of our well educated Americans, people of culture 
and thorough understanding of the world this side of the 
water, can hardly bring themselves to the " beating down " 
process so generally expected in Paris and Italy, or to be- 
lieve even that great hotels, like the Bellevue of Brussels, 
the L' Athen^e of Paris, and the Hotel Metropole of Vienna, 
would imperil their foreign business by descending to abso- 
lute and positive imposition, as both have done to English 
and American travellers. The impositions of the latter 
were brought before the police of Vienna, and also exten- 
sively published through the English press ; and those of the 
Bellevue at Brussels«are pretty generally known among tour- 
ists of both nations. 

The fact is, writers, correspondents, and book-makers do 
not like to be considered fault-finders. Americans especially 
had rather pay a five or ten dollar swindle than " make a 
fuss," or bother themselves about it. 

Not so the Englishman. Be he ever so wealthy, he is 
never rich enough to pay an overcharge even of a shilling ; 
and as it has been said that, whenever an English subject in 
any port in the world is imprisoned or maltreated, an Eng- 
lish man-of-war steams into the harbor of that port, and 
anchors with her guns bearing on the town, within twenty- 
four hours after the occurrence, so whenever an Englishman 
is overcharged five francs on his room or his dinner, at a for- 
eign hotel on any of the grand tour routes, and writes (en- 
closing his card of reference) to the Times, that journal 
prints his communication, champions his cause, and the 



SERVANTS -AND SOVEREIGNS. 29 

offending' landlord has a very wholesome lesson given him in 
a stigma that he finds attached to his house, which it re- 
quires no common effort to remove. 

Again, Americans allow themselves to be imposed upon 
in a manner that English people would not submit to for an 
instant, probably from the fact that class distinction is so 
much greater in England than here. In America, those 
occupying positions of porters, railroad conductors, ticket- 
sellers, baggage-masters, salesmen, or hotel waiters even, 
conduct themselves as though they were, as a general thing, 
too good for the position, and those whom they were serv- 
ing should be gratified at the condescension shown them, 
even though they pay liberally for it. 

To be sure, it is a laudable ambition ; and one great ele- 
ment of the strength of our nation is that these people may, 
by force of brains, elevate themselves to the position of 
merchants, railroad presidents, treasurers, and hotel pro- 
prietors ; but we know that " every man a sovereign " 
feeling crops out quite frequently here, for instance in the 
lordly hotel-keeper who permits you to remain instead of 
welcoming you into his house, the railroad president who 
considers the public of no account, and the merchant who 
serves you indifferently or patronizingly. 

How many Americans are there that will insist that a 
horse-car conductor shall do his duty ; that a railroad presi- 
dent shall attend to the business of the road they own 
stock in ; that city officials shall understand they are the 
servants of the public ; that hackmen and express drivers, 
or baggage porters at railroad stations, shall do the duty 
they are paid for doing ; that if they have paid for a place, 
or a seat, or a performance, or a railroad trip, they shall 
have it ? It is " too much trouble," and cheaper to submit 
to an imposition, than to contend about it. 

The diflSculty this side of the water is, that many who oc- 
cupy the above positions are not willing to accept and per- 
form the duties of the situation. In England, the prompt 



30 ACCEPTING THE SITUATION". 

measures which are taken with regard to the shortcomings 
of ticket clerks, railroad porters, cab-drivers, and railway 
guards, are such that one seldom receiv^es anything but 
polite treatment and a prompt performance of duties belong- 
ing to the position. 

There is a marked difference from our own country in the 
deference the traveller receives in every direction in travelling 
in England, from the landlord and landlady, who cordially 
welcome him in with smiles upon their broad and ruddy 
faces as though they felt honored by his being their guest, 
the obsequious alacrity of the brisk waiter, the courtesy of the 
white-aproned chambermaid, and the untiring devotion of the 
polite shopman. Then the politeness of the railroad ticket- 
sellers, the touch-hats of the porters, and the quiet perform- 
ance of duty of the railway guard, impress the new traveller. 

I am sorry to say, however, that the conduct of many 
American travellers towards these very officials is such as to 
give them a very unfavorable opinion of us as a class ; in- 
deed, it has been such with some as to cause them to say that 
there are no gentlemen in America. This conclusion may 
have been reached, perhaps, from the restiveness of Amer- 
icans under the antique, slow-coach, old-fogy style of doing 
business by the mercantile houses in London,especially those 
on whom their letters of credit were drawn. 

The American going abroad for the first time with a letter 
of credit in his pocket is told that, on presenting it to any 
of the " bankers " of the list printed upon the back, he can 
draw da\j sum within the full amount named in the letter. 
This means, that any of these parties are ready to buy his 
drafts, by which they make a small percentage and charge 
interest from the moment the amount is paid ; therefore, 
instead of " letting you have money," as is said, they 
simply buy exchange of you at a small profit, according to 
the size of your draft, but still at a profit. Your letter is a 
written indorsement of you, showing that you have credit 
and actual funds to protect your drafts, and that you are 



LETTERS OF CREDIT. 31 

therefore a perfectly safe person to buy a draft of, which 
draft is to be indorsed on the said letter. You are a far 
safer person to buy of than the stranger who comes in with 
no letter of introduction to sell a bill of exchange, which 
must be bought to a certain extent because of the presum- 
able value of the names upon it, and because it will prob- 
ably be promptly honored. 

Letters-of-credit drafts, that is the amounts drawn by 
holders of letters of credit, bankers know to be against 
actual sterling, and that they will be promptly honored, no 
days' sight, protesting, or any hitch ; so that, though in 
small amounts, they are the very best kind of bills of ex- 
change. The profound ignorance of some of the tourist 
holders of these letters, is amazing, and their wonderment 
at " brokers " in Germany, France, or Italy " letting them 
have money " on them is amusing. Ladies, for instance, 
travelling with couriers, walk in and ask an Italian banker, 
perhaps : 

" Could you let me have three hundred francs on this ? " 
(showing her letter of credit.) 

The banker looks at the letter, finds it drawn by a well- 
known strong banking-house of New York, Boston, or Lon- 
don, and replies in the blandest of tones : 

" Certainly, Madam." 

lie takes the letter of credit, and shortly returns with two 
printed slips filled out for Madam's signature. These two 
slips are bills of exchange, or checks at sight on the deposit 
which her letter of credit represents. The check or bill is 
made in duplicate in case one should be lost in course of 
mail, and they severally read, " Pay this (original), second 
unpaid ; " and " Pay this (second) bill of exchange, origi- 
nal unpaid." 

The lady signing this has signed a check for some 
of her own money, and the banker or broker, after indorsing 
the amount on the letter of credit, in order that others may 
see how much she has drawn and how much is left that she 



32 CASHING DRAFTS. 

has authority to draw for, proceeds to cash it, or, as she 
calls it, lets her " have three hundred francs." 

This he does as follows : He pays for this cash draft the 
lowest figure the exchange on London or Paris is worth. 
The three hundred francs on Paris may be worth in Italy 
three hundred and thirty to three hundred and forty-five 
francs in the market. He pays, then, three hundred and 
thirty Italian francs, or lire, and charges Madam, besides, 
from one-half to one and one-half per cent, commission for 
cashing the draft, and •" lets her have " the balance ! 

The broker or banker, who is generally doing a business 
with merchants and others having a continual demand for 
funds to place in Paris or London, turns these sight drafts 
right over to the said merchants, who buy them of him, as a 
general thing, at a good profit on what he paid when he let 
Madam have some money. That is, if he gave her three 
hundred and twenty-five francs (Italian) for her sight draft 
(authorized by the letter of credit), it may be pretty certain 
gets three hundred and thirty-five for it, — a profit of ten 
francs. A small profit, for the draft is small. But in 
the travelling season, in many localities, the aggregate 
of tourists' drafts amounts to quite a respectable sum of 
money. 

The drawing of money upon a letter of credit is merely a 
mercantile transaction for which no favors can be expected 
on either side. 

On the continent, where bankers do not despise small 
gains, even this business is fostered carefully. All bankers 
on the continent receive tourists politely, have withdrawing 
room and English and American papers, English-speaking 
clerks, and a register of tourists in town, for the conven- 
ience of those whose drafts they cash. They also receive 
the letters and papers of the tourist, of course charging 
sufiicient postage to save themselves from any loss. Many, 
in Italy, for instance, receive from art dealers and others 
handsome commissions on purchases by buyers whom they 



CONTINENTAL BANKERS' COURTESIES. 33 

recommend, or will purchase and ship home pictures, statu- 
ary, wines, jewelry, or articles of virlu or curiosities for the 
tourist, by which means they carry a very respectable sum 
to the profit side of their ledgers. 

In fact, as a general tiling, the bankers on the continent, 
whose names the tourist will find printed on the back of his 
letter of credit, and who will promptly cash his drafts and 
deal with him honorably, are courteous and civil, especially 
to Americans, having learned that the American, if humored, 
and if some of his peculiarities are borne with, will spend 
money liberally, and they can even find it profitable to trans- 
act business with him in his way, especially if he pays for it 
so to be done. 

Ilence many American tourists who have had no previous 
acquaintance, even by correspondence, with foreign bank- 
ing-houses, and whose names have never been known on a 
bill of exchange, find some of them very pleasant places 
of resort from the courtesy of the officials upon any and all 
occasions. 

In France, Germany, Italy, and other countries on the 
continent, it is customary to order packages sent to your 
bankers, you having shown by your letter of credit that you 
shall do business with them, they will take care of any such 
merchandise. 

Thus you buy a picture in Eome, perchance, and cannot 
take it with you ; but knowing that you shall want it in Flor- 
ence, and knowing no one there, order it sent to the care 
of the banking-house on your letter of credit, the bank- 
ers receive it for you, subject to your disposition. I 
mention this, which is by no means information to any 
person who has travelled abroad, but to caution those who 
do not know, that the English " bankers," or merchants, as 
a class are a very different set of people, and that the tour- 
ist should beware of taking any such liberty (for so they 
consider it) with them. 

They are perfectly right, according to their style of doing 
3 



34 A PRESSING NECESSITY. 

business, which is simply to buy and sell bills of exchange 
and merchandise in bulk. They are not commission mer- 
chants, and do not expect pictures, ladies' dresses, or 
statuary consigned to their care, even if you pay storage 
charges and commission. They do not wish to be bothered 
with that class of business. Tn this a certain class of 
British merchants and bankers are right, and the fault lies 
in our great bankers here in America in not providing that 
their tourists' letters of credit shall be drawn on a house to 
whom American business shall be desirable, and who shall 
be ready to transact business with Americans, and yield a 
little something of the stiff buckram British style if it can 
be done without detriment, to the better accommodation of 
the American customer. It may be that there are such 
houses now in London, but it has been the author's fortune 
to have his " letters " on great banking and mercantile 
houses who seem, like the Chinese, to consider all who are 
not English, " outside barbarians," and that, the English 
system of transacting business being perfect, there should be 
no change in it, even if it were more convenient to foreign 
customers, and assured themselves increased profit. Hence 
the diflSculties of which we speak. 

There exists in London, as almost every American tourist 
will bear witness, the necessity of an American commission 
or banking-house of undoubted financial strength, which, be- 
sides the suflScient capital that some that have failed did 
not have, should also possess the spirit of accommodation, 
knowledge of human nature, and American human nature 
in particular, which those that failed did have, and the prac- 
tice of which drew to them a large amount of business, 
some of which, though even in small amounts of letter-of- 
credit drafts, might, with careful fostering, have, in not 
many years, from the very nature of them, and the progress 
of American business, grown to heavy bills to purchase 
cargoes of merchandise instead of funds to pay hotel 
bills. 



ENGLISH EXCLTJSIVENESS. 35 

The banker in England is considered of the highest grade 
in the business social circle ; only the true blood of nobility 
is above him. Indeed, some of his class, we know, are of 
the nobility, such as Baron Rothschild, Lord Ashburton, 
and others. They look down upon the merchant, still more 
on the tradesman, metaphorically, and doubtless there is an 
impression among them, as among many of the more wealthy 
English people, that the Americans are an inferior race, 
and should be treated accoi'dingly. It may be judged from 
some specimens already described that they have some rea- 
son for this latter opinion. 

Baring Bros. & Co., and MacCalmont Bros. & Co., espe- 
cially the latter, are not the houses that should be selected 
by our American bankers for tourists' letters. They may 
" place " a government or railroad loan, advance on a 
cargo, or contract for a whole crop of merchandise, and do 
business in immense stocks of tens of thousands ; and 
therefore the business of a letter of credit is so compara- 
tively insignificant that they only treat it with the barest 
civility, out of consideration to their correspondents, cer- 
tainly with but little to the holders of the letters. 

The latter English banking-house, upon which the author 
held a letter, he found to be located in a filthy alley, so nar- 
row that barely one cab could pass between the two curb- 
stones. The building, after getting inside, was fairly fitted 
up, but the space for customers in the banking-house outside 
the counter was not ten feet square, and all these bankers, 
or rather merchants, would do was to give you a check on a 
banking-house, in another street, where you were compelled 
to go yourself and get it cashed. 

There was no relaxation of British stiffness, no American 
newspaper, no proffer of courtesy, no moi-e effort to put the 
raw, inexperienced tourist at ease on the part of the man- 
agers, than there would have been towards a tramp buying a 
pound of bacon. The author writes this thoughtfully, and 
after months of cool reflection on the subject. And it does 



36 SEASONED TOURISTS. 

seem amazing, considering the enormous amount of Ameri- 
can travel that now exists, some one of our great banking- 
houses does not make an arrangement with a house in Lon- 
don that will meet the requirements of Americans. Such a 
house would be sure of a profitable business ; it is a want 
that every American tourist feels, and has long been the 
burden of American tourists' complaints, so that the Amer- 
ican banker who will let it be known in America by adver- 
tisement that he can draw on such a house, may be sure of 
a handsome amount of business. 

The traveller on his second trip abroad provides for many 
exigencies that, with all his advice from friends and study of 
guide-books, were not considered on the first voyage. He 
begins to feel like the seasoned traveller, and " knows the 
ropes," i. e., the customs on board ocean steamships. He 
does not on his first visit aboard address himself to mem- 
bers of the crew or some of the cooks, and ask the way 
to the cabin ; four weeks' previous living on board a steam- 
ship make him a little familiar with its accommodations, and 
give him some knowledge of what to expect and what to 
demand. 

The steward detects your cool, old, seasoned rover of a 
dozen passages in a moment. His battered sole-leather 
trunk, serviceable wraps, and his business-like way of 
" stowing his traps," distinguish him from the new tourist 
with his fresh clothing, all sorts of straps, spy-glasses, 
cushions, fashionable caps, and perhaps semi-nautical cos- 
tume, in which he hopes to make an impression, little think- 
ing oftentimes, poor soul ! what misery is before him. 

To be acquainted with the captain seems with many voy- 
agers to be a great card, judging from the way they play 
it, in conversation, — somewhat as follows : 

" When I went over long ago with Judkins, he used to say 
to me," — or, *' Macaulay 's a clever fellow, and I made two 
voyages with him," — or, " Did Moody ever tell you that 
story of the lady passenger and the custom-house officer ? " 



A TRUE SAILOE. 37 

The captains on the great steamship lines appeal- to be 
thorough seauien, and to consider their first duty to carry 
their ships safely from port to port ; but some passengers, 
by their acts, seem to think that a part of their duty should 
be similar to tljat of the skipper of an excursion steamer 
on a trip down the bay on a moonlight night. To walk 
arm-in-arm with young ladies, stand about in nautical uni- 
form, and hold a spy-glass for them to peep through, tell 
them how he can tell anything by the compass, or whether 
he thinks it is going to be fair weather to-morrow. 

Some of these captains I have heard accused of being 
reticent or surly, simply for the reason that they couldn't 
spend time from duty to answer an avalanche of silly ques- 
tions. This was illustrated to me once quite forcibly during 
a voyage in the steamer Parthia, of the Cunard line, com- 
manded by Captain Watson, said to be a very reticent man, 
and slow to make acquaintances. 

For the first few days out all of us were good sailors, for 
it was delightful weather, and the sea was smooth. The 
captain minded his own affairs, and it was evident that the 
quiet man knew his business, and that his oflScers and crew 
knew that it would have to be done in a thoroughly seaman- 
like manner, with no " sogering." His ruddy cheek and 
sparkling brown eye told of health and humor, but " on 
duty " with him was a serious matter. The ladies, however, 
failed to make an idol of him, or the men to vote him a 
clever fellow, for the reason that they didn't understand the 
difference between a sailor and a society man. 

Fancy a keen, bright-witted, practical seaman, fully real- 
izing the importance of his position and responsibility as 
commander of an ocean steamship, being badgered by the 
gentler sex in this manner when he made his appearance on 
deck in fine weather : 

" 0, Captain ! what was that horrid jar in the machinery 
about twelve o'clock last night ? " 

" I can't say, Madam ; perhaps the engineer can tell you." 



38 CATECHIZING THE CAPTAIN. 

" Do you think, Captain, it will be as fine weather as this 
all the way over ? " 

" Certainly, Miss, if the weather does not change." 

" Captain, tell me where is the most dangerous place one 
can be in on the whole passage ? '' 

" Overboard at night, I should think, Madam." 

"0, Captain ! don't you sometimes get awfully frightened 
in a storm ? " 

" If it is much of a storm, Miss, we don't have time to be 
frightened till it's over." 

Many observers will bear witness that similar questions 
were asked on voyages they have made, and are a fair sample 
of the feminine style of interrogatories. Hardly less ludi- 
crous and absurd was that of some of the male sex, one of 
whom comes along, and squinting knowingly aloft, says : ' 

" Ain't you carryin' sail pretty strong this mornin', 
Cap'en ? " 

" Perhaps we are." 

" How much sail will she stan' in a breeze like this ? " 

" 0, all that we make." 

" Wind is changin', I see," says another, looking aft. 

" Indeed ! " says the Captain, for it was news to him. 

Another comes along, perhaps, with an idea of doing the 
agreeable. 

" Good morning. Captain." 

" Good morning." 

" Won't you go down and take a little suthin afore break- 
fast — cocktail or a little bitters?" 

(Sententiously.) " No, thank you." 

" 0, Captain," says another, " I wish you'd see that I hev 
a napkin put to my plate at dinner ; thet waiter forgets it." 

" If you will speak to the chief steward, he will accom- 
modate you." 

Think of people, who ask a steamship captain questions 
like these (and these are no inventions), complaining that 
he is "reticent," or " plaguy short in his answers." 



STEAMSHIP EXPERIENCES. 39 

A great many ocean-steamship passengers cherish a kindly, 
and we might say reverential respect for some of these 
steamship commanders, somewhat for the same reason that 
a man does for a good family doctor that has successfully 
battled with disease for him, or a good family lawyer that 
has faithfully guarded his property. It is a recognition of 
their professional skill as sailors, and of the fact of their 
own utter helplessness in a position where the other was at 
home and master of the situation ; and if ever there is a posi- 
tion where the man should be the master of the situation, it 
is as commander of an ocean steamer. 

The life on an ocean steamer has become familiar from 
frequent description, to those even who have not expe- 
rienced it ; but it is astonishing how much more practically 
you take it after a trip or two across the Atlantic, and, if 
anything of a student of character, how much, even in the 
temporary misery of sea-sickness, there is that one sees which 
is ludicrous and amusing. The everlasting setting of tables 
and eating and drinking is nauseating until you get your 
appetite on ; then it is interesting. A pale-faced passenger, 
on the sixth day out, once came to me with a triumphant 
countenance, saying, " I am all right now for the rest of 
the voyage, for I can stand right over the kitchen in the full 
steam and scent of Welsh rarebits and fried bacon." Those 
who know the sensations caused by the scent of cooking on 
a thoroughly sea-sick man will appreciate the strength of 
stomach implied by this boast. 

But the sea-voyage is not always the disagreeable expe- 
rience that is pictured. Between the months of May and 
September a reasonably pleasant trip may be expected across 
the Atlantic, and we must also recollect that everybody is 
not sea-sick, and that there are comparatively few but re- 
cover after tAvo or three days of illness. There are the 
glorious days when the ocean air seems like a cordial 
draught, the blue sky above an azure never before so heav- 
enly, and when the translucent green waves, fringed with 



40 PLEASANT DATS AT SEA. 

white crests, as they bend in broad, graceful scrolls away 
from the ship's prow, seem to be molten and polished metal 
rather than the colorless fluid. 

The great steamer, with all sails set and the wind directly 
aft, bends to her work like a yacht ; steadied by the sails, 
the ship cuts through the water without a jar, nor sways 
from the side towards which she leans. We feel scarce 
any breeze, but the big-bosomed sails tell how it chases us, 
and the humming cordage overhead sounds like a great 
jEolian harp. 

Not only the wind is sending us onward, but the chained 
giant below works untiringly at piston-rod and wheel, his 
ravenous and fiery appetite fed constantly by attendant 
slaves, and the monotonous, regular throbs of the machinery 
he keeps in motion becoming so much a part of our exist- 
ence, that, let it but stop for an instant, and curiosity, not to 
say anxiety and alarm, is immediately expressed. 

But these pleasant days, when the sea is smooth, the sky 
clear, and the system steady, — there is not enough said 
about them. Each one must, of course, give his experience 
of the discomforts of the voyage, as though there were no 
enjoyments in it, and there were none who enjoyed it. Can 
there be any better place for quiet thought, for grand medi- 
tation, or luxurious, lazy dreaming, than on the great 
boundless ocean at midnight, beneath a cloudless sky, and 
the moon and whole train of heavenly constellations looking 
indeed like golden lamps hung down from the blue dome 
above ? 

There is just movement enough of old Ocean's breast to 
seem like the regular inspirations of its life ; the innumerable 
train of sparks from the steamer's chimney are like a flaming 
troop of elves flying off" on a midnight revel, as they whirl 
and waltz and float far astern, till they seem to alight at some 
trysting-place behind a silver-edged wave in the distance. 
The great concave above rims us in upon a vast tremulous 
expanse of steel and silver, with a broad shimmering path- 



POETRY OF THE OCEAN. 41 

way stretching across it, made by the moonligh-t ; the sound 
of the waves, or the i:»lash of water that strikes the ear as 
you lean over the bulwarks, is like a liquid whisper, and 
caresses the side of the ship like a lover stroking the curls 
from the brow of his mistress ; a distant sail, with the moon- 
beam striking on it, creeps like a phantom in its white robe 
hastily across the horizon. 

Save this ghost-like vision, the broad expanse heaves, 
" boundless and sublime," far as the eye can reach, sending 
up here and there frosted frontlets of foam that shine for a 
moment like fretted silver, and then sink from sight. Then 
it is that the landsman begins to feel the inspiration of the 
ocean, and can realize how men may have written grand 
poetry about it, and applied those poetic terms that in his 
days of wretchedness in a close cabin seem misnomers and 
a mockery. 

Perhaps he may realize also, during the voyage, what 
influence the salt songs of opera and concert-rooms might 
have been composed under, if the authors indeed ever had 
any such experience as the inspiration of a sea-voyage, as 
he steams up the Mersey of a glorious May morning. 
Watching rocky shores and green slopes, he meets out- 
coming ships spreading their great white wings for their 
ocean flight, hears the sailors' chorus softened into music 
by distance, or notes the great waves afar off" rush and 
leap up against the rocks on which the warning light-house 
is perched as if in vain endeavor to overtop it ; or sees 
that oft-quoted and really splendid sight, a full-rigged ship 
under full sail riding over the waves with graceful swing, 
and the glitter of her copper sheathing shining amid the 
dark waves, and flashing foam like the gold bracelets upon 
the ankles of a Hindoo woman in a white robe. 

The breeze is fresh ; a fountain of spray springs from the 
prow of the great ship as she rushes through the brine, and 
falls in the morning sunlight like a cataract of diamonds on 
either side. 



42 LIVERPOOL. 

Up goes the flag of Old England to the masthead, and 
up, too, go three or four colored pendants, the ship's sig- 
nals, fluttering in the air, and hours before we reach our 
port of destination not only will the news of our coming 
have been told, but it will have, with magic speed, con- 
quered in a few seconds the space that required of us weary- 
days to overcome, and have told loved ones at home that we 
were fairly over the ocean and sailing into port as surely as 
though we were actually beneath their own anxious gaze. 

Ilere we are on the pier, at the big shed under which the 
custom-house officers are waiting, and who make, as usual, 
short work with the trunks of American tourists. Here let 
me advise the new tourist not to leave his trunks to be sent 
up by the regular porters to the hotel, — " it'll be all right, 
sir, an' save yerself the trouble," — as it gives opportunity 
for a swindling charge, notwithstanding there is a regular 
price. If you have but little luggage, after it is examined 
have it carried up by a porter from the landing-stage to the 
street, where he will place it on a four-wheeled cab for six- 
pence, or at most a shilling, and you can then drive at 
once, " bag and baggage," to your hotel. 

Hotels in Liverpool I have before alluded to, and will 
touch upon them again, as here is where the newly-arrived 
American gets his first experience of English hotel-keeping, 
notwithstanding he will probably stop at one which owes no 
small part of its patronage to American travellers beginning 
or returning from their European travels. 

Since I was first abroad, the old Adelphi Hotel in Liyer- 
pool has been handsomely remodelled, its little box of a 
coffee-room enlarged to reasonable dimensions, and many 
other improvements made in deference to the numerous 
Americans who frequent it. 

The Adelphi, Washington, and other houses, will be 
observed by the traveller ; but the great Northwestern 
Hotel is the house at present in Liverpool, and one in which 
an American may be as comfortable as it is possible for him 



HOTELS. , 43 

to be, under certain customs which the English people dog- 
gedly adhere to because they are English, no matter if the 
whole civilized world does not practise them, and, in the 
case of an hotel, no matter if the majority of their patrons 
are foreigners, to whom the custom may be positively 
annoying. 

The Northwestern Hotel is at the terminus of the North- 
western Railway, which takes you to London, and is so 
near that you walk directly into the station from its hall or 
office to take the train, without leaving the slielter of the 
roof. It is owned, I think, by the railroad company. It 
fronts St. George's Hall, and the front outlook is light and 
pleasant. The beds are excellent, the rooms good and well 
kept, prices high, — about four dollars and a half, gold, per 
day, — drawing-rooms, halls, and public rooms quite con- 
venient, food good, when you get it, and attendance in the 
dining-room execrable, and annoying to an American to 
the last degree. 

In the first place, the proprietors seemed, when I was at 
the hotel, to have adopted the plan of a great many English 
hotels to get cheap waiters, namely, that of taking a large 
number of Frenchmen, Italians, and Germans, who had left 
tlieir native country either to escape the usual military ser- 
vice, or else to learn the English language sufficiently to 
enable them to be polylingual waiters at continental hotels. 
The stupidity of these men, from their imperfect under- 
standing of the English language, customs, cooking, &c., 
added to the English system of serving guests, which in 
itself was one of the most prodigious bores that can pos- 
sibly be imagined, was very aggravating, 

I have in a former series of sketches (" Over the Ocean ") 
told the reader that every meal at an English hotel must be 
ordered in advance, and that nothing is ever "ready." 
Here at the Northwestern Hotel was a most ludicrous 
example of it. Placai'ds posted in the reading-room in- 
formed " guests desiring dinner " that twenty minutes 



44 TORMENTS OF TANTALUS. 

notice, at least, was desired. It was an absolute impossi- 
bility here to get dinner without paying twenty minutes of 
time, besides the money value of it. I personally tried it, 
by coming at the hour the hot joints were announced to be 
"ready," and which stood smoking on the carver's table, 
within ten feet of where I sat. 

Fortunately, I got an English waiter to attend' me. 

" Give me," I said, " a slice of that roast-beef," pointing 
to it. " I wish for no vegetables, but only a slice of the 
beef, and a bit of bread." 

"Yes, sir." And the waiter left me, returned in two or 
three minutes with a little ticket for me to fill out, number 
of my room, name, and what I would order. I did so, and 
he retired again. 

There I sat, the aroma of the beef saluting my nostrils, 
as its juice oozed out, and it slowly baked in its great 
chafing-dish over gas-heaters ; but never a slice got I. 

Five minutes passed ; nearly as many more ; and then 
knives and forks were placed, napkins ditto. 

"Can't I have my beef now?" 

" Yes-ir, d'reckly ; 'ot plates here d'reckly, sir." 

Then water was turned out in the goblets, the waiter left, 
and in a short time reappeared with plates, proceeded to 
the beef dish, cut ofi" my modicum, and placed it before me 
in just eighteen minutes, by the clock, after I had ordered it. 

It was no use. I, like all other Americans, was com- 
pelled to pay this eighteen to twenty minutes to the hotel 
proprietors, besides the money price charged, nolens volens. 
No matter if the beef stood at my elbow, and a waiter 
could have served me in ten seconds ; tliere was the old 
English roadside-inn system of charging at the bar each 
item, to be gone through with just as was done to their 
great-grandfathers, and that must be followed out ; and here 
is a description of it, and what caused the delay. 

We will suppose that, as a genuine American, you come 
home at half past two, or five, p. m., to dine, and had not 



THE CIRCUMLOCUTION SYSTEM. 45 

left written instructions with the head-waiter in the dining- 
room, when yon went out in the morning', that you should 
be home at the hour, nor what to provide for you. 

You find dinner going on, and sixty or eighty persons 
may be dining at the tables, and naturally suppose, as, per 
bill of fare, dinner is announced as "ready " at those hours, 
it is an easy matter to get it. Let us see. 

In tlie first place, if you are a stranger, it is difficult to 
get a waiter. There is no polite head-waiter, as in Amer- 
ica, to step forward, conduct you to a seat, and assign one 
of his subordinates to attend to you. The head-waiter, as 
you will see, is tremendously busy with his book and fig- 
ures, and, owing to the English system, the number of sub- 
ordinate attendants appears, to the inexperienced Amer- 
ican's eyes, to be lamentably insufficient. 

Finally, after finding for yourself a seat, you succeed 
in getting the attention of a waiter from the next table, 
from which he has been going, and to which he has been 
coming, with all the different courses, to a party of four or 
five. You begin to order from the bill of fare. lie pre- 
sents you the inevitable blank ticket to fill out. We will 
suppose that you wish neither soup nor fish, so that, after 
writing your name and number of your room upon the 
ticket, you write roast-beef, potatoes, peas, bread, lettuce. 

The waiter takes this to the head-waiter at the further 
end of the long room ; he copies it into a book, checks it, 
and sends it out across an entry to the bar-maid ; she 
charges it, passes it back, and it returns the length of the 
hall and goes down to the kitchen, where a regular requisi- 
tion is made for it, and in twenty minutes is placed before 
you, if there are not too many orders ahead of you ; but 
frequently, if you have not ordered in advance of your 
coming, and "fixed things" with some waiter, you may wait 
for thirty minutes, or three quarters of an hour, before a 
morsel passes your lips, and yet dinner is " all ready." 

American readers, who are so promptly served at their 



46 EVERY ONE TO HIS CALLING. 

own hotel-tables, will appi-eciate the annoyance of this cir- 
cumlocution, and can imagine what a hurrying to and fro, 
and tremendous fuss generally, there is at the usual dining- 
hour. 

An amusing illustration I must relate, of the utter igno- 
rance of an English employd of any detail of business out- 
side of his own particular department, although the fact is 
frequently commented on by Americans. One would sup- 
pose that the clerk in this Great Northwestern Railway 
Hotel, whose duty it was to register each gjest's name on 
arrival, assign him a room, and receive payment on depar- 
ture, would insensibly acquire, from the very fact of ob- 
serving arrivals and departures of guests, a knowledge of 
the hours of arrival and departure of trains, and more 
especially as her constant position (the clerk was a woman) 
was within a dozen feet of the great entrance-door of the 
hotel into the station. But no ; it was not her business to 
know, and she really knew nothing of the matter, as ap- 
peared by the following dialogue : 

" At what hour does the train from Chester arrive ? " 

" If you ask the porter, he will tell you." 

" But the porter is not here at present. Don't you know 
whether there are any trains that arrive in the forenoon ? " 

"I'm sure I can't tell you; for trains be coming and 
going all day, and my business is to take travellers' names 
on the book, and assign them rooms. It is the porter as 
knows the trains' time." 

" But the incoming trains stop within a dozen rods of 
where you stand, and the travellers coming to the hotel 
from them come first directly to you ; you surely recollect 
whether you are accustomed to see any from Chester by 
morning trains." 

" Beg your pardon, I never took notice when they come. 
I knows there is gentlemen from Chester comes here often. 
Sir Henry Bowring was 'ere once from Chester, but 
whether 'twas in the morning or afternoon, I quite forget. 
The porter will tell you." 



THE LANGHAM HOTEL. 47 

I turned to tlio porter, who had now arrived, with the 
same question, and got the following reply : 

" Chester, sir ? Tell you in one minute." And he took 
down a well-thumbed Bradshaw's Guide, and after consult- 
ing its pages about five minutes, continued, — 

" Yes, sir ; three trains in forenoon, two in afternoon ; " 
giving the hour. 

Now the bar-maid, to whom I first applied, acknowledged 
that she had held her position " a matter of eighteen 
months," and the incoming trains from Chester actually 
jarred the room in which she stood, and yet she had not 
the slightest knowledge of their hour of arrival, " because 
it is the porter's business, do you see ? " The porter him- 
self was not up in the time-table sufiiciently to answer 
without refreshing his memory ; and yet this is a very 
large and generally well-kept house. 



CHAPTER III. 

The Langham Hotel, in London, aiFected by Americans 
generally on their first visit, seems to have been built for 
the express purpose of showing how much could be done 
in the exterior and two lower stories, and how little real 
comfort could be provided the ordinary practical traveller. 

Imagine an hotel with the lower halls those of a palace 
in extent ; lavatories, smoking-rooms, &c. ; furnished with 
brilliant and expensive tiles and porcelain ; dining-room 
Englishly luxurious ; drawing-room elegant, lofty, and well- 
lighted ; and one story of great hall-like rooms extrav- 
agantly expensive, and hundreds of other rooms without 
wardrobe or closet, and only three hooks for clothing, and 
those placed on the chamber-door. These rooms, (and be 
it known they are not third or fourth rate, but considered 



48 ENGLISH CUSTOM VS. AMERICAK EEQUIEEMENT. 

very desirable,) when a gentleman and wife get into them, 
with two trunks, are so crowded J,hat there is scarcely room 
to move about to the two chairs, wash-hand stand, and 
dressing-table, which, with the bedstead, constitute the 
furniture. 

Fancy how an American tourist ejaculates compliments 
against "the directors," when he goes down and tells the 
" gentlemanly clei-k," in his little corner den, that he has 
unpacked his clothing, and there is no closet in his room in 
which to put it, and no pegs on which to hang it ; and the 
aforesaid gentlemanly clerk " tells him the same complaint 
had been made hundreds of times before by Americans, and 
the directors of the hotel company have had their attention 
called to it ; but, as they are Englishmen, they cannot be 
made to see the necessity of closets, hooks and pegs, in a 
room that is to be occupied by travellers only a. few days ! " 

Is there any use arguing against such pig-headed conceit 
as this ? The fact is, one hundred years ago an Englishman 
travelled with a portmanteau and one change of clothing ; 
he " took a bed," — that's the way the English novels have 
it to this day, — "a bed at an inn," not " a room at an hotel," 
and consequently the three pegs for his top-coat, hat, and 
wrapper were all-sufficient. Inns were built to accommo- 
date that style of travel ; and we may hope that in fifty or 
one hundred years more, if the thousands of American trav- 
ellers continue to go to London, the idea will penetrate the 
London hotel-keeper's brain that it will pay to have con- 
venient, well-fitted rooms all over the house, and that the 
return for such needed conveniences will be a lengthened 
stay and more liberal expenditure by the guest. 

The plan seems now to be, to make a portion of the rooms 
as inconvenient as possible, in order to drive the tourist into 
the very high-priced ones ; but as these at the Langham 
are generally crowded during the season, it only has the 
effect of rendering tourists, who are charged enough for good 
rooms, vexed at the great pretensions, wretched accommo- 



BEHIND THE AGE. 49 

dations, and utter lack of proper attention that they find 
here. It is impossible, also, to get good service except 
through extra feeing of the servants. 

There is need of a large, well-kept American hotel in 
London. The Langhain pays an enormous return to its 
stockholders, and, having the field to itself, makes com- 
paratively little effort towards any innovations for American 
comfort. The very clerks argue that " it is no matter if the 
Americans do swear at the 'ouse going away ; there is al- 
lers others as takes their room soon as they leaves 'em ; 
80, what's the hodds ? " 

Around in this part of London — the West End — are 
numerous comfortable English hotels, nearly every one of 
them remodelled from former aristocratic dwelling-houses : 
the Edwards House, a handsome and expensive, well-kept 
one ; the Brunswick, and several others, where rooms may 
be had for from two to twenty guineas a week ; and the 
Queen's, on Cork Street, Bond Street, a small, but an ex- 
ceedingly well-kept and reasonable priced one, with a land- 
lord who caters to American notions. It has the old-fash- 
ioned rooms of a fashionable dwelling of fifty years ago, 
with that air of solidity, old-fashioned clumsiness, and incon- 
venience, that makes you, as an American, long to put in 
an army of carpenters, painters, gas-fitters, and plumbers, 
and utilize the waste space, raise the ceilings, and lighten 
up the whole affair from sombreness to cheerfulness. 

As a general thing, the American, on his return to Lon- 
don, after a few years' absence, seems to find everything 
just as he left it : the same sign-boards, same streets, same 
buildings, and same shopmen ; the latter a trifle older, per- 
haps ; but nothing seems to have been moved out of place, 
especially in the older part .of the city. So unlike our 
American cities, over which, perhaps, a fire may sweep, 
levelling entire districts, and upon the ruins of which, in 
another year, would rise stately edifices of increased archi- 
tectural beauty, upon newly laid-out avenues, so that he 
4 



50 MAGNIFICENT IMPROVEMENTS. 

who has been but five years absent, on his return absolutely 
loses his way in streets bearing the names, and in that part 
of the city he had been familiar with all his life before. 

But while Eegent and Oxford Streets, Trafalgar Square, 
Temple Bar, and the Strand wear the same familiar aspect, 
there has been a startling change at the foot of Holborn, 
for at the point where the street used to run down to Far- 
ringdon Street it has recently been bridged over with a 
bi'oad and splendid viaduct, and the last vestiges of the in- 
conveniences of climbing Holborn Hill have been removed. 

To show the amount expended on this grand improve- 
ment, which really connects what is known as " the City " 
with those great main thoroughfares, Holborn and Oxford 
Streets, it is only necessary to state that the cost of it was 
about two million pounds, about five hundred thousand 
pounds being obtained back by sale of land on the sides 
of the viaduct after completion. 

The American reader must understand that this great 
bridge, or viaduct, was to obviate the inconvenience and 
diflSculty of descending one declivity and ascending another, 
in going from one part of the city to another, and, high 
above the street dividing the two parts, Farringdon Street, 
which covers what was once the old Fleet Ditch. Resi- 
dents of Boston may fancy a broad and splendid avenue 
running from the head of Hancock or Temple Street, on 
Beacon Hill, high above Cambridge Street, to the brow of 
another hill opposite, and they may get a tolerable idea 
of this great work. 

The difficulties in the way when this work was begun 
may easily be imagined. Portions of whole streets in the 
oldest and most crowded part of the city had to be pulled 
down ; travel and business in some of the most crowded 
streets diverted ; twelve thousand bodies removed from old 
St. Andrew's churchyard, which was cut through ; and an 
inconceivable amount of litigation, references, and other 
difficulties to be encountered. But here it is, finished, and 



THE WONDERS OF LONDOKT. 51 

one of the greatest and most successful public works ever 
undertaken in London, and one which every citizen of an 
American city ought to visit and examine carefully as one 
of the sights of London, and as an illustration of the thor- 
ough, complete, and magnificent manner in which any gi'cat 
public work of this kind is performed in England. 

The length of this great street in the air — that is, from 
the brows of the two hills, from Holborn to Newgate Street 
— is fourteen hundred feet, and its width, exclusive of the 
space occupied by buildings, is eighty feet. Of this space, 
fifteen feet is used each side for side-walks, leaving a 
fifty-feet granite-paved roadway in the centre. At the 
four principal points on the bridge over Farringdon Street 
are colossal statues of Commerce, Agriculture, Science, and 
Art, and at the four corners of the bridge, elegant edifices 
in the Renaissance style have been erected, the fronts of 
which are ornamented with statues of several of London's 
eminent lord mayoi's. It was opened for public travel in 
November, 1869, by Queen Victoria, with great parade. 

So the improvements in what was the old Smithfield 
Market are wonderful ; the new Albert Memorial and mon- 
ument gorgeous ; and the new Bethnal Green Museum in- 
teresting ; but the old streets of London seem to resist the 
march of progress and improvement much more successfully 
than those in our American cities, where buildings half a 
century old are considered antiquated. 

The sights and wonders of London, as they are called, 
are pretty thoroughly known to everybody who reads, — 
the Tower, Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's, Houses of Par- 
liament, British Museum, galleries. Exhibition, and places 
of amusement. But, besides all this, the city itself is a won- 
der ; scarce a street but has its history, like an ancient city. 
Hunt up its record, and you find that old authors, whom you 
have read with delight, lived in it, monarchs had ridden 
through it, tyrants were killed in it, or battles fought 
through it ; or that its very name is linked with the historic 



52 OLD SMITHFIELD. 

records of hundreds of years ago ; or has been so gilded 
with intei'est by the novelist that it is almost the realization 
of a dream to walk over the very ground and among the 
very scenes that your imagination has so often pictured and 
populated. 

So when I walked down Holborn and over the great via- 
duct, and looked down upon Farringdon Street and over to 
Smithfield, I couldn't resist going down through Giltspur 
Street, and over to the magnificent new meat market in old 
Smithfield. What an historic spot it is 1 Here I remem- 
bered what horrors had been enacted under the reign of 
Bloody Mary, for it was here that the fagots blazed and 
the fierce flames consumed the martyrs of whom we have 
all read in schoolboy days. 

The first who perished here under the reign of the bloody 
papal queen was the noted John Rogers, who was burned 
at the stake, and at the last moment refused pardon at its 
price — recantation. The picture of his martyrdom at the 
stake, in the midst of the flames, " with his wife and nine 
small children, with one at the breast," looking on, — a 
rude woodcut in our fathers' schoolboy days, — is familiar 
to New England boys. 

Here Anne Askew suffered for her Protestant opinions at 
the dawn of the Reformation in 1546, and for denying, on 
examination, her belief in the doctrine of transubstantiation, 
after having been subjected to frightful tortures on the rack, 
was burned, with three other persons, opposite St. Bartholo- 
mew's Church. She, too, had a paper handed to her, 'white 
chained to the stake, promising royal pardon if she would 
recant her belief and pronounce it error. But, like the rest 
of the noble army of martyrs who were the victims of the 
mei'ciless cruelty of the Romish Church, she refused to lis- 
ten to it, and perished rather than preserve life at the ex- 
pense of conscience. 

I had curiosity to inquire where the spot was where the 
burning of heretics took place, and learned from a good- 



HISTORIC GROUND. 53 

natured Englishman that it was supposed to be opposite the 
entrance of the Church of St. Bartholomew-the-Great, which 
is a fragment of the ancient Priory of St. Bartholomew, 
founded in the time of Henry I., in the year 1120 or there- 
abouts, and which contains some fine old Norman columns 
and arches. 

In the year 1849, near the spot pointed out in Smithfield 
by my informant, some workmen, who wei*e digging to 
open a new sewer, came upon a heap of rough stones and 
ashes. The stones were blackened with fire, and beneath 
them were found charred human bones ; and this, from the 
best accounts of antiquaries and old documents, was decided 
to have been the site of the stake at which heretics wiere 
burned in Smithfield. 

That hero of the romance in schoolboy days, "The Scot- 
tish Chiefs," — William Wallace, — was barbarously butch- 
ered — it could not be called executed — at Smithfield, by 
order of Edward I., in 1305. Here, also, in Smithfield, and 
opposite old St. Bartholomew, it will be remembered, fell the 
rebel Wat Tyler, in 1381, stabbed by Walworth, lord mayor, 
whil» dictating terms of greater freedom for the people to 
the king, Richard II., then a boy of fifteen. 

Executions of criminals, as well as the burning of mar- 
tyrs, took place at Smithfield, or Smoothfield, as the old 
historians tell us it was called, and one John Roose, a con- 
victed poisoner, was boiled to death there in a caldron, in 
1530. Grand tournaments were held in old Smithfield, in 
13V4:, by Edward III. Here is where the Bastard, brother 
of Charles, Duke of Burgundy, and Lord Scales, brother-in- 
law to Edward IV., fought in single combat, in presence of 
the king, in 1467. 

Smithfield was the tournament field of old, the place of 
the gibbet, the knightly duelling-ground, and the field where, 
in the reigns of the Norman sovereigns of England, citizens, 
artisans, and soldiers contended in manly exercises. 

And here in Smithfield, for hundreds of years, was held 



64 THE METEOPOLITASr MEAT MARKET. 

the celebrated Bartholomew's Fair, that we all have read 
about, and which Ben Jonson has written of and Hogarth 
pictured. The great caricaturist, by-the-by, was baptized 
in this very church of St. Bartholomew-the-Great. 

Smithfield is always associated in the minds of American 
readers with a cattle-market, and no wonder, for it was used 
for that purpose continually for several hundred years. 
Some idea of the amount of business that used to be done 
here may be gathered from the fact that in 1846 there were 
two hundred and ten thousand, seven hundred and fifty-seven 
head of cattle, and one million, five hundred and eighteen 
thousand, five hundred and ten sheep sold here. The sales 
used always to be for cash. When seller and purchaser 
closed a bargain, they shook hands, and no papers of any 
kind, other than bank-notes, were passed in this way. Ac- 
cording to the statistics, over seven million pounds sterling 
were paid away annually in this market. It was abolished 
in 1852, as a nuisance, and removed to Islington, as the 
mud and filth used to be often ankle-deep, and the smell and 
noise of live-stock intolerable. Smithfield, however, is 
really one of the most historic points in Old London. " 

The Great Metropolitan Meat Market, that has now sup- 
planted the crowded cattle-pens, is a wonder of its kind, a 
huge structure of red brick, with conspicuous towers, and 
its great iron entrance-gates of wrought scroll-work, twenty- 
five feet high, nineteen wide, and fifteen tons weight. Inside, 
and there is a bewildering scene of trade and traffic in every 
species of meat and poultry. And such a market ! Only 
think of three acres under roof, and the roof a graceful 
structure of iron and glass, thirty feet above the pavement, 
through which abundant light and air are let in upon the 
busy scene below. 

The dimensions of this great market are six hundred and 
thirty feet in length by two hundred and forty-six feet in 
width, and its conveniences the best of modern times ; for 
underneath the market proper is a complete railway depot, 



WONDERS OF A LONDON MARKET. 55 

from which run tracks communicating with the under- 
ground or metropolitan railway, with every part of London, 
also with the cattle market at Islington, and indeed the coun- 
try round. Occupants of the market have also cool cellars 
beneath for the storing of their meats, and attached are ele- 
vators or dumb waiters by which the merchandise can be 
lowei'ed or raised at pleasure. Thus the market-man can 
receive his meat fresh from the country or the cattle market 
by rail, store it in his cellar, raise it from the railway-car by 
elevator, or expose it for sale ; and, having sold it, place it 
once again on the railway-car, and send it to any part of 
London or the suburbs. 

Kot only has the Metropolitan (or Underground, as we call 
it) railroad communicating tracks in the depot under this 
market, but the Midland, the London, Chatham and Dover, 
and tlie Great Western ; and a train of one or the other 
line passes through it every two minutes. 

The shops or stalls of the market are ranged on each side 
of the principal passage of the immense parallelogram, and 
on the sides of the cross passages or streets intersecting it, 
and are one hundred and sixty in number. The great central 
avenue is nearly thirty feet wide, and the six side avenues 
about twenty feet. 

The coup cVosil — looking through this huge glass-roofed 
structure, with its beautiful arched roof of ornamental iron 
arches, pillars, and scrolls, and row of huge glass globes for 
gas-lights stretching far away in the distance — is beautiful 
in the extreme. 

But then the wonders of the stock exposed for sale ! 
Mountains of beef, hills of mutton, whole serried ranks of 
carcasses hung up, game by the cartload, and eggs by the 
chaldron. Besides these I saw here some curious things 
brought to market, which, if they did not disgust, as did the 
heaps of live snails and frogs in the French market, none 
the less excited astonishment, because it never occurred 
to me that they were used for food. Plovers' eggs, for 



66 ADMIRABLE ARRANGEMENTS. 

instance, for which there is a large demand at this market ; 
Egyptian quails, which are brought alive from that ancient 
country by thousands ; and a sort of eatable eagle from 
Norway ; French geese, American grouse, and Belgian pigs. 

The conveniences and desirability of stalls here are fully 
appreciated, and there is always great competition to obtain 
them. 

Great attention has been paid to ventilation, and it ap- 
pears with success, as has been tested during the heat of 
summer weather. The roof is so arranged as to let in an 
abundance of light without any sunshine, and all the air 
desired without any rain. Twelve great hydrants supply 
an abundance of water for purposes of cleanliness and safety 
against fire. 

This new market was opened to the public with grand 
ceremony in November, 1868, by the Lord Mayor of Lon- 
don, the Building Committee on Market Improvements, and 
other oflScials. Over the principal entrance an orchestra 
was erected, in which Dan Godfrey flourished his baton and 
led his famous band of the Grenadier Guards. Ten thou- 
sand feet of gas-piping were laid to illuminate the building, 
and twelve or fifteen hundred people partook of the grand 
banquet prepared for the occasion. 

It will be remembered that Smithfield has been the market- 
place since the year 1150, for over seven centuries, and as I 
take leave of this splendidly designed and convenient struc- 
ture, I recall the remark of an American, whose national 
pride, and perhaps national envy, were excited by the en- 
comiums of his friends, their invidious comparisons, and 
moreover their praise of its completeness. 

" Complete ? Yes it ought to be, considering they have 
been seven hundred years completing it." 

I found myself one pleasant day, — they do now and then 
have pleasant days in London, notwithstanding all the talk 
about rain and fogs, and Englishmen always carrying um- 
brellas, — I found myself sauntering down the Strand, 



THE STRAND. 57 

looking in at the shop-wiudows, and approaching Temple 
Bar. 

The Strand ! I often used to wonder why they called it 
so, and supposed, and correctl}^ the reason to be that it %vas 
the strand on the river's bank, as it really was iii ancient 
times ; but the street which, even until the time of Henry 
VIII., was a grass-grown way, is now a broad thoroughfai'e, 
of course changed in all save name, and separated from the 
river by houses and streets that occupy the space that was 
once the green banks of the river, or the gardens that ex- 
tended to the river-banks and belonged to those who dwelt 
here in pleasant view of the rolling Thames. Now it is a 
broad avenue, known as the thoroughfare that connects 
"the City" with what was once Westminster, and all that 
remains of the residences of the ancient nobility who used 
to liVe in this once charming location on the river-bank, are 
the names of the streets that are called after the estates 
they were laid out over. 

Thus we have Northumberland Street, Villiers Street, 
Buckingham, Salisbury, Essex, and others of names famih'ar 
in English history ; and I turned down one little coal-smoke 
smelling street of monotonous English regularity, called 
Craven Street, to read on a slab inserted in front of one of 
the "lodgings-to-let" looking houses, that Benjamin Frank- 
lin, the American philosopher, resided there during his stay 
in London ; passed Wellington Street, 'very appropi'iately 
leading to Waterloo Bridge, then the elegant St. Mary-le- 
Grand Church, and then St. Clement's-Danes Church, where 
a son of old Canute is buried, and at last arrived at the 
ancient barrier between Westminster and London, — an ugly, 
unsightly barrier, too, even if it was designed by Sir Chris- 
topher Wren. 

Old Temple Bar, a clumsy structure, which ever and anon 
there is a stir about, and dark hints that it shall be taken 
down, for it is a bar indeed to the enormous tide of travel 
that surges about and around it where the Strand debouches 



58 TEMPLE BAE. 

into Fleet Street. Through its narrow arches the whole 
tide of travel must be compressed, and, clumsy old barrier 
as it is, it is one of the antiquities that we Americans all 
like to look upon, associated as its name is in our minds with 
many events in the most interesting portion of England's 
history. But its days are numbered, and although English- 
men will preserve it as long as possible, it has been declared 
unsafe, and it will probably be razed to the earth ere these 
lines reach the reader's eye. 

Through Temple Bar, and you are in " the City," and you 
need not go a dozen paces for historic points or for old land- 
marks that are fraught with interest to the historian, the 
antiquary, and the scholar. A gossipy investigating saunter 
in this vicinity, with a London friend well read up on the 
different points of interest, or, perhaps still better, alone or 
with a friend who only knows of them as you yourself do, 
by historic account, and the searching of them out your- 
selves, has quite the charm of antiquarian research and 
discovery. 

I remember I had brushed up my recollection of old Lon- 
don, and fortified it somewhat by digging into a friend's 
library for some hours, so that, on passing through Temple 
Bar, I at once began to recall the celebrated dwellers in 
Fleet Street, that figure in the biographies of English 
writers, and the actors and authors that are identified with 
English history itself. All around here you uislj find the 
names of sti'eets, remains of celebrated resorts that you 
have read and re-read of in the writings of the oldest and 
the wisest of England's authors. The quaint antiquities 
of old London are on every side. Through the Bar I went 
on my first stroll, but got no farther than a street on the 
left, where the well-known name " Chancery Lane " arrested 
me as if by a command. 

Halting on the corner, while omnibuses and drays roared 
past, and standing oblivious to di-ivers of Hansom cabs, who 
drove close to the curb in expectation of a customer, I began 



CHANCERY LANE. 59 

to think of poor Miss Flite, in Dickens's story of " Bleak 
House," especially as a little bent old woman, bag on arm, 
shambled along directly up the street as if to show the 
way. Ah ! now I remember. It was " on the eastern 
borders of Chancery Lane, that is to say, in Cook's Court, 
Cursitor Street, Mr. Snagsby, law-stationer, pursues his 
lawful calling," — according to the " Bleak House," tenth 
chapter, and first verse, — and I wondered if there was a 
Cursitor Street, or a Cook's Court, where Mr. Snagsby kept 
his stationer's store, and Krook his rag-and-bottle ware- 
house, that looked as if it were a place where " everything 
was bought and nothing ever sold." 

A penny to a street-boy quickly solved this mystery, so 
far as the streets were concerned ; for I was piloted up 
through Chancery Lane — occupied chiefly by lawyers' cham- 
bers, and with dozens of law-stationers' shops, where blank 
forms, pencils, pens, sealing-wax, law lists, inkstands, and 
bunches of quills, with the old-fashioned binding of cord 
about them, and cutlery, and all that sort of thing, were 
sold, — into Cursitor Street, of somewhat similar character ; 
and out of that ran Tooke's (not Cook's) Court. 

What a halo of interest a novelist will throw around a 
narrow old alley ! Ragged, shirt-sleeved men stood at the 
corner, and slatternly women were sauntering here and there, 
as I entered the confines of Tooke's Court ; a bloated-faced 
lounger now and then looked at me curiously as I passed. 
Tooke's Court evidently don't have nowadays a prejudice in 
favor of decently-dressed people, or as respectable ones as 
Mr. Snagsby. I couldn't see in the little narrow place any 
stoi'o that looked like the successor of " Pfefier and Snagsby," 
but I did see " Mrs. Perkins and Mrs. Piper," or their heirs, 
assigns, or representatives, although I think one, if not 
both, was of the Hibernian persuasion, and one stood in the 
middle of Cook's (Tooke's) Court, "having it out" in a war 
of words with the other in the second story of a house, under 
which onions and other fragrant green-gi'oceries were sold. 



60 REALIZING Dickens's stoeies. 

Then, near by, was a house with two stone door-posts, 
upon one of which was inscribed that " wines and spirits " 
were sold, and against both of which leaned three or four 
seedy, beery-looking men, one of whom, a short fellow in a 
cutaway coat, dirty plaid trousers, and a battered white hat, 
and with a red kerchief about his neck, I set down at once 
as " Little Swills," and the door the entrance to " The Sol's 
Arms." There isn't any rag-and-bottle shop here now, but 
here must be the very place Old Krook moved out of, for 
here there are shops hard by where one would think " noth- 
ing was ever sold." And this is the scene of the inquest, 
and here's where Miss Plite lived, and Tulkinghorn came, 
and — » 

" Yas you lookin' for any von, guv'ner ? " 

I looked down ; the fellow whom I had set down in im- 
agination as " Little Swills " stood beside me, and an un- 
mistakable odor of gin and onions flavored the atmosphere. 

" Yes, I was looking for Mr. Krook." 
•■%" In the green-grocery line ? " 

" No ; the rag-and-bottle." 

"Rag-and-bottle, guv'ner? Veil, I don't mind showin' 
yer a 'spectible ole lady as keeps marine stores over by 
Fetter Lane ; but Mr. Crook, in the rag-and-bottle, I doesn't 
know 'im." 

" Very well, it's of no consequence ; " and I turned to 
go, when, as usual, touching the brim of his battered old 
hat, he said : 

" I don't s'pose you'd mind the matter of sixpence, guv'- 
ner, for the hinformation." 

I saw one of his friends drawing near to assist in the 
conversation, and therefore dropped the coveted coin into 
his hand, and passed on, not, however, without overhearing 
him communicate to his companion that I was " a bloke as 
was lookin' up rag-and-bottle shops — a gen'leman as stood 
two drains — come along, Bill." 

I got out into Chancery Lane again, and met English- 



CHANCERY LANE. 61 

looking lawyers, with " fair round bellies," gray side-wHis- 
kers, respectable black suits, gaiters, and fob chains with 
big seals ; one was getting into a trim-looking brougham, 
and giving the driver, who was dressed in livery, some 1 
directions ; and the other was glancing at his watch, and * 
telling a Hansom cab-driver he had just called that he had 
just time to catch the train. Then there were the unmis- 
takable lawyers' clerks, and lawyers' boys, besides the stream 
that had other business, and took the cut of Chanceiy Lane 
to get from Holborn to the Strand. 

Here in Chancery Lane is the entrance to the law build- 
ings known as Lincoln's Inn, a fine old gateway adorned 
with coats-of-arms in antique carving. We might look in 
at the garden and over at Lincoln's Inn Fields, and while 
wandering round among this dreamy old pile, wonder where 
Sir Thomas More used to live, or Coke, the great lawyer, 
and Pitt, Canning, and Bishop Heber. They point to the 
wall next to Chancery Lane, and tell you that Ben Jonson 
worked there as bricklayer, and actually laid part of it 
before his wit and brightness were discovered. 

Here I was told, in chambers in the square leading out 
of Chancery Lane, was the room where Cromwell came to 
meet Secretary Thurloe, and to lay a plan for the enticing 
of Charles the Second and his young brothers, the Dukes 
of York and Gloucester, from their exile in Bruges into his 
power, — a plan which was frustrated by a clerk who was 
tliought to be asleep in the ofiice, but who overheard the 
whole and warned Charles in time. Here also King Charles 
the Second, and, in 1661, with Lord Clarendon and others, 
had a jolly good Christmas revel ; and here also the noted 
Nell Gwinne lived. 

Out through the old gateway and into Chancery Lane 
again, — for I was really on the way to the Temple Church, 
the lodge of the old Knights Templars, — when the Chan- 
cery Lane signboard had caught my eye and led me mous- 
ing round its legal and historic intricacies. 



62 AN HISTORIC LANDMARK. 

Just out of Chancery Lane and standing in Fleet Sti'eet, 
I look at old Temple Bar again, which seems to have little 
that is of great historic interest in itself to render it worthy 
the jealous preservation with which it has been guarded. It 
was built in 1670, by Sir Christopher Wren, soon after the 
great London fire, and its chief celebrity seems to be that 
the heads of people executed for high treason used to be 
stuck up on it. It was, in fact, the dividing line or barrier 
of the city of London from the city of Westminster, or city 
from Shire, — a fact to be remembered by the curious 
American tourist who wishes to note " how London has 
grown." The room over the arch is hired by Messrs. 
Child and Co., a banking firm, for the storage of their old 
account-books, and contains two or three tons of them. 

But the spot on which Temple Bar stands is inseparably 
connected with the historic events of England, for here 
passed Edward the Black Prince in triumph after the battle 
of Foictiers. Henry the Fifth made his triumphal entry 
through the old Temple Bar, or former structure of wood, 
after his great victory of Agincourt in 1415. Here Anne 
Boleyn, Henry the Eighth's beautiful queen, was welcomed, 
and also his daughter, Queen Bess, passing to her corona- 
tion in 1558. Through Temple Bar Edward the Fourth 
conducted the beautiful Elizabeth Woodville as his bride to 
her coronation ; and here also passed the wife of Henry the 
Seventh to a like ceremony. 

It is, perchance, because the clumsy old pile marks the 
spot of so many interesting events, and that it is a land- 
mark from which so many others can be located, that Lon- 
don hesitates to level it to the ground. 

That gentle old fisherman, Izaak Walton, lived near the 
corner of Chancery Lane and Fleet Street, " on the north 
side of Fleet Street, two doors west of the end of Chan- 
cery Lane," just about where I was standing, said one old 
history ; and another puts him down as living in Chancery 
Lane, seven doors from Fleet Street, from 162Y to 1644. 



CLASSIC GROUND. 63 

On the north side of Fleet Street stands St. Dunstan's 
Church, near Temple Bar. My earliest recollection of the 
courageous saint for whom this church is named, is of a 
spirited pictiire of him, whore he was represented in the 
act of holding' his Satanic Majesty by the nose with a pair 
of red-hot tongs ; for Dunstan was a famous worker in iron 
and brass, and was, it will be remembered, forging iron 
work in his cell when the Evil One appeared to him. Much 
to my chagrin, however, I found that Dunstan neither built 
nor founded this church, but that it was built on the site 
of an old one, in 1829. And the old one was built about 
the year 1200, over two hundred years after the devil-seizing 
saint had been laid comfortably away to rest under the high 
altar of Canterbury Cathedral. 

But it is worth while to remember that all around the old 
St. Dunstan's were some of those famous Fleet-street pub- 
lishers who printed the earliest editions of some of the 
most celebrated books in the English language : John 
Smethwicke, "under the dial," who printed "Hamlet" 
and " Eomeo and Juliet;" Richard Marriott, who pub- 
lished Quarles's "Emblems," Butler's " Hudibras," and 
Izaak Walton's "Complete Angler;" and Mathias Walker, 
who printed Milton's "Paradise Lost." 

All around here, within a few rods of the corner of 
Chancery Lane and Fleet Street, every street and alley is 
celebrated. Sam Johnson, Ben Jonson, Goldsmith, Cowley, 
Michael Drayton, Shenstone the poet, and a host of others, 
have made it classic ground. Here is Fetter Lane, the next 
street to Chancery Lane, that runs up to Holborn, and 
where Dryden used to live ; and here is the house, which is 
pointed out to you ; and Dr. Johnson is also said to have 
lived in this lane. Indeed, all the streets in this vicinity 
seem to have some reminiscence of the great lexicographer, 
so much so that, one dreamy summer's day, when I was 
prying ai'ound in some of the quiet, clean, enclosed courts, 
surrounded by quaintly furbished-up old buildings, whose 



64 THE KNIGHTS TEMPLARS. 

rooms were lawyers' offices, it seemed as though the huge 
bulk of the old fellow might very naturally shamble across 
the pave in his cocked hat and knee-breeches, as he had 
done when living. 

But I came down through Temple Bar to visit the old 
Temple Church, the famous church or asylum of the Knights 
Templars from 1184 to 1310. This ancient order first estab- 
lished themselves on High Holborn, but after a time, in- 
creasing in strength and riches, purchased a large tract of 
land extending from Fleet Street to the river. The Tem- 
ple was in ancient times really a large monastery of military 
monks, arranged for the residence of the abbot, or prior, 
as he was called, brethren, knights, and serving brethren. 
It consisted of a church, for worship and the religious cer- 
emonies attending the admission of approved candidates 
into the ranks of the brotherhood, a council-chamber, rough 
quarters or barracks, and humble fare for the knights them- 
selves ; cloisters, and the beautiful field and garden extend- 
ing down to the river-banks, in which horses were exercised, 
and the knights themselves had opportunity for military 
exercise. 

The fame of this order in the crusades, their original 
humility, their days of proud magnificence, their vows of 
chastity, to devote their entire energies to wresting the 
Holy Sepulchre from the hand of the Saracen, their prog- 
ress from rigorous military monks to proud knights with 
regal possessions, their power and influence from embracing 
the most powerful nobles of the land among their numbers, 
and their unquestionable valor, render them among the most 
prominent figures in history. 

For two hundred years all Europe rang with their ex- 
ploits, and it was not until their wealth became so great as 
to excite the greed and cupidity of pontiffs and sovereigns, 
that the charges for monstrous crimes were brought against 
them by their accusers. The Templars, as time rolled on, 
doubtless were less rigorous with regard to their vows, and 



THE templars' HOME. 65 

perhaps were somewhat arrogant ; but after all, their great 
crime in the eyes of their ancient accusers was their wealth, 
and the charges brought against them were in many cases 
absurd and ridiculous. 

To-day their memory is perpetuated by a Masonic order, 
who profess to have certain rites and ceremonies similar to 
those of the ancient knights, and to " work " somewhat as 
did these mail-clad warriors, in the initiation of candidates 
into their order. 

Passing through Temple Bar, I turned into a little court 
or alley, which brought me to the old edifice, rich in histor- 
ical associations, shut in by surrounding dwellings, and 
apparently sunken somewhat below the present level of the 
street. Around nearly all very old buildings the earth 
seems to have gained additional crust during the hundreds 
of years they have stood, and they have not risen, like 
living and moving things, to its surface ; for, according to 
antiquaries who are interested in the exhumation of ancient 
Eoman remains beneath the surface of modern London, the 
soil rises one foot every century. 

But as we stand in this inclosed space, hemmed closely 
in by surrounding buildings on every side, we can hardly 
have a correct idea of what this beautiful house of the 
Templars was over six hundred years ago, when this grand 
round lodge, — for the old part of the church that remains 
is circular, — with the splendid colonnade of pillars, and 
lofty, grooved roof, which still remain, stood rich in archi- 
tectural splendor upon the banks of the river Thames, 
commanding a pleasant view of the rolling stream beyond 
the space of ground between church and river. 

The Temple Church, which is one of the most interesting 
historical edifices in London, is at the same time one of the 
most chaste and beautiful in its architecture. I was struck 
with this at the very threshold, where I halted beneath the 
old semicircular arched Norman doorway, to reach which I 
had to descend a few steps, and the deep recess of which 
6 



B6 THE TEMPLE CHURCH. 

was superbly ornamented with sculptured ornaments, elab- 
orately carved pillars, foliated capitals, and twisted, carved 
work overhead. Passing the leaves of the old Norman 
door, which closed behind me with a clang, as of the fall 
of a portcullis, I was within this ancient structure, beautiful 
in its effect and majestic in its simplicity. 

The Temple Church, it should be understood, is really 
two distinct churches. The first, or Round, in which I 
stood, is the older, having been consecrated in 1185, and 
was built by the Knights after a model of the Church of 
the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. The other portion of 
the church is square, and of different style of architecture. 
It was finished in 1240. The great fire of London, in 1666, 
rushed up almost to the very walls of the old Temple 
Church ; and another, in 16'78, destroyed a greater pai't of 
what were known as the " residential buildings " of the old 
Temple. The ceiling of the interior is richly frescoed and 
decorated with the lamb. Templars' cross, and other em- 
blems of the order — of course, modern restoration. In 
fact, the arrangement of the interior, with the exception of 
walls, pillars, and pavement, has been changed very much 
since the days of the old crusaders. 

The round church remains in form as originally built, on 
the exterior, except that it has been re-faced with stone. 
The diameter of the round is fifty-eight feet, and there are 
said to be but three other churches in England of this form. 
The architecture is one of the earliest specimens of pointed 
arches intermingled with round arches. The walls are five 
feet thick. 

No one who has road of the tremendous struggles of the 
crusades, when from time to time, during one hundred and 
seventy years, with a valor amounting to religious frenzy, 
the whole of Christian Europe sought with unflagging en- 
ergy to redeem the FToly Sepulchre from the hands of the 
Moslem, but has recognized the Knights Templars foremost 
in every onset, and bravest in every battle ; and it is inter- 



SCEXE OF INITIATION. 6T 

esting to stand here in the very centre of their ancient 
home ; here, where they were charged to be brave, honora- 
ble, and true as a duty ; to stay not for mountain, sea, or 
desert, and spare not even life in the effort to reclaim the 
birthplace of Christianity from the grasp of the infidel ; 
here they knelt and pronounced their vows, and from here 
went forth on campaigns against the infidel. 

As I stood in the centre of this renowned temple, and 
looked up to the I'ing of Romanesque windows above the 
old Norman arches, and upon six clustered pillars, with 
their sculptured capitals upholding the vaulted roof, I could 
not help thinking that here might have been the very spot 
where, when with doors closely guarded, and brethren 
ranged around in the robes and badges of the order, was 
the altar at which the novice knelt, and, after having pro- 
nounced his vows, and being instructed in his duty, with 
impressive ceremonies by the Grand Master, received arms 
and equipments, and a lecture with each, and lastly his 
sword, and the celebrated white mantle with the red cross. 

Here in this circular sanctuary have stood some of the 
bravest hearts that ever beat beneath a steel corselet ; here 
have been raised some of the stoutest hands that ever 
swung mace or battle-axe, in solemn oath to fight for the 
Christian religion, and to wrench the Holy Places from the 
hand of the Mussulman ; here have stood princes, kings, 
potentates, monks, priests, knights, — all men whose names 
and deeds are imperishable in history ; aye, and here at our 
very feet rest the ashes of those who have marched' over 
the blinding sands and under the burning sun of the East, 
beneath the banner of the cross, or ridden with the stalwart 
Richard at the battle of Acre, and fronted the forces of 
Saladin himself 

Here rests one of those who forced King John at Runny- 
mede to sign Magna Charta ; and here, under the protection 
of the kniglits, dwelt John himself for a time, many of his 
public documents being dated from this place. After a look 



68 THE TEMPLAE EFFIGIES. 

around at the beautiful pillars, the lofty arches, and pictured 
windows, the eye falls to the most interesting objects, the 
monumental effigies of Knights Templars that lie in groups 
in the central aisle. 

First, in full Templar's costume, with sword at side, right 
arm on breast, and the left supporting his long shield, lies 
Geoffrey de Magnaville, who, it seems, had rather a difficult 
task of it in getting his mortal remains into the sacred spot ; 
for, having rebelled against King Stephen, and committed 
various bad acts, he died excommunicated and forsaken by 
all save his Templar brethren. They clothed him in full 
costume, and, fearing the wrath of the Church if they 
should bury him in consecrated ground, rolled him up in a 
winding-sheet of lead, and hung him suspended in a leaden 
coffin from a tree in the garden, till they were able, several 
years afterwards, to soften the papal heart, and inter him 
and his leaden hammock beneath the portico of the western 
door of the Temple, where even the iron tramp of his breth- 
ren of the order over his head failed to disturb his sleep. 

Next we stand beside the effigy of the bold and faithful 
Earl of Pembroke, who served his royal master, Henry III., 
so faithfully, and was indeed well worthy the title of Pro- 
tector during that monarch's minority. He died in May, 
1219, and his effigy represents him with his feet on a lion 
and hand on his sword. Next comes the sculptured figure 
of Lord de Ros, one of the leaders of the barons, but no 
Templar, for he has no beard and wears long hair, which the 
rules of the order did not permit. He was one of Coeur- 
de-Lion's knights, however, and one of the barons who 
forced King John to sign Magna Charta. This effigy is one 
of the best of any in the church. 

Among the others, we are told, is another baron, who 
married King John's daughter ; while William Plantagenet, 
son of Henry HI. (marked by a rigid stone coffin), Gilbert 
Marshall, and other forgotten knights of olden time, mingle 
their dust together, and, although wrought with so much 



REFINEMENT OF CRUELTY. 69 

care, the remainder of these sculptured mementos but per- 
petuate the military costumes of those they represent, not 
even marking the spot beneath which they were buried, or 
recording' those names with which doubtless their country 
rang in their day ; for inexorable time, in a few centuries, 
obliterates all except "there lived a man." 

This fine old church passed into the hands of the Knights 
Hospitallers in 1324, till that old tyrant, Henry VIII., 
abojished that order, and they leased it to the students of 
law, in whose possession it has ever since remained. 

It is a step downwards, somewhat, to come from the time 

of mail-clad knights, whose armed tread made these old 

walls ring with their clang, to what we are wont to call old 

times, and might make one think " to what base uses," &c., 

when we find that this very part of this old historic spot 

was formerly a place of rendezvous for lawyers of the 

Temple, with their witnesses ; for old Hudibras tells of 

them — 

"That ply i' th' Temple, under trees ; 
Or walk the round with kniglits o' th' posts, 
About the cross-legged knights, their hosts ; 
Or wait for customers between • 
The pillar rows of Lincoln's Inn." 

But the lawyers only come here now, when they do come, 
for worship, for the Temple Church is now a place of reli- 
gious worship, belonging to the lawyers of the societies of 
the Inner and Middle Temple of London. 

Half-way up the winding staircase that led to the Tri- 
forium, the large circular gallery surrounding the overarch- 
ing dome, between the vaulting and roof, is the little 
penitentiary cell of the Temple, formed into the solid walls, 
and measuring only four feet and a half in length by two 
and a half in breadth, so that the unfortunate knight who had 
transgressed the rules of the order could not lie down within 
it, but, with a refinement of cruelty wortliy the times, an 
aperture was left so that he could hear, see, and joiii in the 



70 THE GEAVE OP GOLDSMITH. 

devotional ceremonies of the church. It is positively known 
that Walter Le Bacheller, Grand Preceptor of the order, was 
confined and died in this cruel prison, and, could its cruel 
walls speak, we might know of others who have languished 
in their stony embrace. 

Up in the Triforium, if any one has a taste in that direc- 
tion, can be examined a host of monuments that were for- 
merly scattered in and about the church. Here is that of 
Plowden the jurist, Howell, author of a once celebrated 
series of letters, and ancestor of Gibbon the historian, Lord 
Chancellor Thurloe, and other slabs, tablets, and sculptures 
chronicling the deeds, virtues, and characters of forgotten 
judges, long passed-away scholars, and an array of legal 
talent whose epitaphs are rich in Latin texts and quotations. 
It is indeed a museum of old monuments, and was well 
arranged, when, in 1842, seventy thousand pounds were 
laid out in restorations. A pleasant place, perhaps, for an 
antiquary, this garret full of tombstones, but one which the 
" average tourist will not spend much time in. 

Out into the old burial-ground about the building, we 
stop a moment at the monumental slab of Oliver Goldsmith, 
who is buried somewhere in the churchyard, but where, it is 
not positively known. It is but a step or two to the Temple 
Garden, a green island in a sea of brick and stone, sur- 
rounded by the hum and roar of the metropolis, that lashes 
its waves of busy life, its smoke, dust, and roar, to the very 
verge. Shorn, much as it is, of its former fair proportions, 
it is, from very contrast to its rude surroundings, a pleas- 
ant spot ; once a delightful garden, sloping to the river 
side, where knights and squires, lawyers and judges, yes, 
and priests and monarchs, strolled. 

But 'tis Shakspeare that has invested the place with its 
chief charm, for here he places the scene of the breaking out 
of that fatal and bloody feud of the houses of York and 
Lancaster, from which came the War of the Roses. Here 
Richard Plantagenet plucked his white rose and called upon 



THE THAMES EMBANKMENT. 71 

his friends who thought he had pleaded truth, to phick 
white roses too ; while young Somerset, equally confident, 
called on his friends to pull red roses for his cause. And 
then ensued that memorable dialogue, as natural to-day, 
when opponents detract with sneers each other's cause, as 
then. 

But kniglits, princes, warriors, and all have passed away ; 
and so must our dream of old times, as we emerge once 
more into the crowded street, amid the roar of vehicles and 
the busy activity of the mass of humanity that surges and 
flows around us on every side. 

And where shall we go next ? 3.sks the new tourist. From 
Temple Bar scarce an}'- direction can be taken but historic 
ground will be trodden, and be the wanderer's thoughts not 
on history but on city sights, he may, within a short distance, 
encounter the latter in every direction. 

Down here amid the thunder of the city, one seems to 
get some idea of the vastness of London. After you cross 
over the huge viaduct at the foot of Ilolborn, you seem to 
feel the pulsations of its mighty heart ; the throngs coming 
and going, the inextricably entangled confusion of veliicles, 
and further on, the great bridges with railroad trains thunder- 
ing over them almost every moment ; or descending an iron 
staircase down into the bowels of the earth, you find 
iron veins stretching off in shining lines far into the distant 
darkness, with the trains ever coming and ever going, as 
the underground railway plies its never-ceasing business. 

A walk towards the Thames, and that wonderful improve- 
ment, the Thames Embankment, bursts upon the view. 
Along what was once the shore, where in old times were 
mud and slime, rotting hulks, i'ou\ water, and old wharves, 
dilapidated old buildings of a forgotten age, old warehouses, 
ship and boat buildings, and all those unsightly objects of 
the river's bank that have been so graphically described by 
Harrison Ainsworth and Charles Dickens, now runs a mag- 
nificent road one hundred feet wide, its wall towards the 



72 THE LONDON BRIDGES. 

river being of splendid hewn granite, and all along it a fine 
quay reclaimed from the river. 

But at what a tremendous expense are city improvements 
made here, for this vast one had, in 1813, already cost over 
one million and six hundred thousand pounds sterling, or 
more than eight million dollars of our money ; even this 
does not include the expense of widening and altering the 
streets that approach it ; and it was not then completed. 
The money, to pay for this improvement, is raised by a tax 
of three pence to the pound on all ratable property in Lon- 
don, and from the coal and wine duties. 

Of course London Bridge is the first one everybody visits. 
Only think of a bridge over which one hundred and ten 
thousand people and twenty thousand vehicles pass every 
twenty-four hours ! The old London Bridge of the novelist 
is gone, and this present great nine hundred feet stretch of 
granite was finished in 1831, and cost over two million 
pounds sterling ! There's a city item that gives an idea of 
the cost of city improvements in the modern Babylon. The 
great Waterloo Bridge, which is thirteen hundred and eighty 
feet long and forty-three wide, cost a million pounds, and, 
although charging but a halfpenny toll, takes about ten 
thousand pounds, or fifty thousand dollars, a year from foot- 
passengers alone ; and the beautiful Westminster Bridge, 
eleven hundred and sixty feet long and eighty-five feet 
wide, is a spot from which there is a fine view of that won- 
derful piece of " gingerbread work," the Houses of Pai'lia- 
ment. The view upon and from these bridges at night, 
when all the lamps are lighted, is one that should be seen, 
being a scene of singular and striking effect. 

The American looks with astonishment at the cheap, and 
to him old-fashioned, looking buildings in Regent Street, 
fashionable street of shops ; there are no marble palaces, 
extravagant buildings of outrageous architecture, as in 
Broadway, New York ; but in the way of merchandise 
everything that money can buy is found in stock. A ride 



THE WEST END. 73 

up to the West End or the fashionable part of the city, in 
the quiet old squares, looking at the exterior of the houses 
of sombre aspect, one hardly can realize the magnificence 
of the interiors, rich in upholstery, elegant furniture, paint- 
ings, statuary, and all that makes living luxurious, Sei-- 
vants answer at the door instanter, trained to the politest 
deference, even in tone of voice, and skilful in deferring to 
master's and mistress's wishes or whims. The service in 
an aristocratic English family, despite all the ridicule of ser- 
vantgalism or of John Thomas, seems to mo to be as near 
perfection as it possibly can be, 

I have ridden through some streets in the more aristo- 
cratic part of the city, where were residences of the wealthy, 
where whole blocks, or terraces, as they were called, had 
an inclosed private roadway of forty or fifty feet in width 
between the house and the street, separated from the street 
by a wall, entrance being had for the private carriages of 
owners of the half dozen grand mansions of the block, only 
at each end of the inclosure. This inclosed place, or private 
street, was admirably kept, and the portion not actually 
occupied as a driveway beautifully laid out in flower-beds 
and shrubs, which often formed points for the carriages to 
drive around. 

From these beautiful evidences of wealth, seen at their 
best in the height of the season, about the middle of June, 
it is but a brief journey first to the interminable streets of 
shops, thence down to that packed, wedged in, squeezed to- 
gether part of the city below Temple Bar, or down Fleet 
Street, Lombard Street, St. Paul's Churchyard ; or down the 
Poultry, beyond the Mansion House, where the stranger 
wonders how down here, and in this very rush and crush, 
so many tailors, furnishing stores, and stationeiy, boot and 
shoe, hats, caps, jcutlery, and every species of retail estab- 
lishment, can possibly flourish, jammed down among mer- 
chants, bankers, brokers, and all that sort of people, and no 
dwelling-houses anywhere to be seen. 



74 LONDON EESTAUKANTS. 

But don't they utilize alleys down in the city ? Step into 
a passage-way scarce a dozen feet wide, and you will find it 
packed with restaurant entrances. Some will be little nar-; 
row houses, with narrow staircases running from the first 
floor, which is occupied by beer and bar counter up to the 
two or three upper rooms, where Englishmen will pack in 
almost like herrings, to eat their noonday lunch of meat and 
beer, or sandwich and sherry. 

Another unpretending entrance in an alley will usher you 
into a tremendous great restaurant lighted by an interior 
inclosed court-yard or skylights above. You encounter the 
clatter and noise of three or four hundred customers, and 
the rush of thirty or forty waiters. You pass by one great 
bar-counter, where in full view are specimens of the luxu- 
rious larder. Burly barons of beef delicately mixed with 
fat and lean, red and white, as though prepared by an artist 
purveyor ; magnificent mutton chops, with broad, round 
masses of tender meat, and snowy, sweet fat that will brown 
so luxuriously ; haunches of venison and great legs of 
Southdown mutton, that will make an epicure's mouth 
water ; lobsters all alive, ho ! great turbot, green turtles, 
sole, which none but an English cook can dress ; ham and 
chicken, kidneys, pork chops, and an array of various kinds 
of cheeses, pickles, sauces, and appetizers, mild, pungent, 
or fiery, to smooth the delicate or spur the blunted taste. 

There is a notable absence of the innumerable French 
dishes, " kickshaws," and side-dishes found in an American 
restaurant. The English restaurant runs more to substan- 
tials and solids, — beef, cabbage, and asparagus, chops and 
potatoes, a bit of plum-pudding perhaps, or gooseberry tart 
after the meat, but more frequently cheese and bread, 
washed down with wine or beer, constitute the city man's 
noontide lunch. 

And here let me remark that the prodigious quantity of 
liquor drunk by the English astonishes the newly-arrived 
American. Maybe the high price at our own restaurants in 



THE " CITY." 75 

a measure prevents it ; if so, pray Heaven it ma,j continue ; 
but licrc, from poorest laborer to millionnaire, all seem to take 
something alcoholic. In the great restaurant I am speaking 
of, scarcely a man but drank his pale ale, bitter beer, claret, 
or sherry with his meal, but rarely anything stronger. Here 
and there some weather-beaten old campaigner, whose prim, 
square, solid cut, English costume, high stock, immaculate 
linen, carefully trimmed white whiskers, and shaven face 
mottled with good living, showed him to be a true Briton 
believing in good dinners, called for brandy-and-water ; but 
these were the exception. 

In other respects than those above mentioned, the res- 
taurant was very muph like an American one, except that 
you paid your bill to the waiter, with a few pence for him- 
self, instead of paying at the counter as in America. 

In these narrow passages down in the City, in the vicinity 
of the Bank and Exchange, restaurants swarm, and in them 
may also be found merchants, brokers, great importers, and 
often some of the heaviest firms in the metropolis, who, 
being known all over the world, and commanding by their 
great capital the attention of mercantile men, seem to glory 
in hiding themselves Siway in the most obscure nooks, in 
order, as it were, to enjoy the satisfaction of making other 
lessor capitalists take as much trouble as possible in getting 
at them. Down here in the City, as it is called, it teems 
with life from ten to four, and every street, alley, and pas- 
sage seems to be rammed, jammed full of people, to such 
an extent that you wonder how there can be enough business 
to keep them all in occupation. 

The poorer districts of London are an unpleasant picture 
to contemplate. Take any of those of our own great 
American cities, and multiply by ten or fifty, and you have 
it. Interminable streets of cheap shops below, and crowded 
tenements above ; swarms of wretched, ragged, and almost 
naked children of all ages thick as flies, fighting, playing, 
sleeping, and screaming ; idle, loafing men and blowzy 



76 WELL-BEED PEOPLE. 

women ; reeking gutters and filthy odors ; the most showy- 
establishment the gin-shop, that flourishes boldly, brazenly, 
openly, and frequently. 



CHAPTER lY. 

But how, asks a friend, do the better class of English 
people live at home ? To this I would answer, so far as I 
had an opportunity of observing, very much like well-edu- 
cated, well-bred, wealthy American families; not at all' like 
many American families who have wealth and little or none 
of the other mentioned characteristics. The more really 
aristocratic and wealthy the Englishman, the less, as a gen- 
eral thing, is his pretension or attempt at vulgar display. 
You may be as likely to encounter a lord, having a rent- 
roll of thousands a year, in a rough tweed suit and stout 
walking-shoes, among the Scotch hills, or sitting very 
quietly on top of the Brussels stage-coach beside you, in a 
plain travelling-suit, as you bowl over the road out to the 
field of Waterloo. There is no vulgar display of jewelry 
or costume about him, no supercilious air, no scattering of 
money or " damning the expense ; " in fact, it may be cor- 
rectly said, there is none of this about any genuine gentle- 
man of any nationality. Men who are sure of their position 
in society, and know that it requires no bolstering before 
the world, never boast of ancestry, riches, or superiority 
of intellect, and are quite ready to believe that there are 
others in the world not only their equals but even their 
superiors ; that being settled in their own minds, they feel 
no necessity on their part to argue the point. 

There is also in people of this class an absence of that 
effort to rise which is noticeable and evident in aspiring 
persons. I have known a wealthy Englishman to say he 



ENGLISH HOME LIFE. 7T 

could not afford to pay ten pounds for an article which an 
American, whose entire property did not equal the former's 
annual rent-roll, bought without question. The first could 
" not afford " to squander money, to pay an extravagant or 
exorbitant price for a needless luxury, to which the latter, 
with his spendthrift liberality, never gave a thought, more 
than that it pleased him for the moment, and he had money 
enough on hand to buy it. 

The dividing lines are distinctly marked, and the walls 
of society are high and strong in England ; but, like the 
social barriers of the best society in our own country, hos- 
pitality is hearty, if they be creditably passed. 

I have. said that what I saw of life in an English gentle- 
man's family is similar to that in many American ones. It 
may interest the untravelled reader to give a description of 
a single experience of it in detail. 

I was once invited to a gentleman's country estate in 
England, a two hours' ride from London. I was directed 
by letter of invitation how to reach the nearest station by 
rail, and informed that I would be met there on arrival. On 
alighting from the railway carriage at the end of my jour- 
ney, I was at once accosted by a polite footman in liverj^, 
who, touching his hat, asked if myself and companion were 
the expected guests. On being answered in the aflSrmative, 
he escorted us to a carriage in waiting, upon the box of 
which sat the liveried coachman. The railway porters were 
directed to send our baggage — two trunks — after, in the 
cart in attendance, and the smart footman then, alter seeing 
us safely bestowed, spi'aug to his place, and the carriage 
rattled away over the smooth English road, behind the well- 
groomed horses, at a smart trot. A three-mile drive brought 
us to the grounds, which were entered, and we were driven 
up by a winding avenue, beneath the spreading branches 
of tall trees, between which were long reaches of view of a 
well-kept park, with its close-cut, velvet lawn, till we arrived 
at the broad covered porch of the entrance of the mansion. 



78 ENGLISH SERVANTS. 

As we halted, the footman sprang down and opened the 
carriage-door, and another man-servant stepped from the 
porch to assist us to descend, which we did, meeting the 
host and his wife at the door, welcoming us in a hearty, 
cordial manner at the threshold. A step or two brought us 
into a large entrance-hall ; the two servants took coats, 
wraps, hat, and umbrellas from us, and the host said that 
we must wish first to go to our rooms to prepare for lunch, 
which would be ready in half an hour. Two rooms, side 
by side, one for myself and the other for my wife, each 
commanding delightful views of the park, were assigned us. 

A rosy-cheeked, white-aproned and white-capped cham- 
ber-maid attended madam, and a footman in a quiet livery, 
myself. The latter had my portmanteau brought to my 
room, unstrapped it, asked for the key, unlocked it, and 
asked if he should lay out any change of clothing for lunch. 
I designated a few articles, which he selected as if he had 
been my tailor for a lifetime, and then bestowed my other 
wearing apparel in wardrobe and bureau-drawers, with such 
slight comments as, — 

" I will place the linen here." 

" Coats, you will observe, please, are hung in this press." 

" Brushes, combs, dressing-case, here." 

He then laid dress-coat, clean linen, and dinner costume 
out for me, and indicating " hot water, sir; cold; writing 
materials," added, " Shall I assist you to dress? or would 
you please to order anything ? " 

" Nothing — thank you." 

"Bell, please, if I'm wanted," said he, indicating the 
bell-rope ; and, politely bowing, retired, closing the door 
noiselessly. 

A comfortably furnished room, with blue-covered furniture, 
large, comfortable bed, with richly-wrought counterpane and 
pillow-cases, blue and lace curtains, and at foot of bed three 
deep windows, two commanding views of the beautiful 
grounds, and one of the distant country ; and in the niche 



AN ENGLISH INTERIOR. T9 

of the latter a little writing-desk, with paper, envelopes, 
paper-knife, stamps, bronze figure Iiolding a little candle- 
stick, sealing-wax, and all the paraphernalia for correspond- 
ence, either social or oflScial. Floor carpeted with Brussels 
carpet. 

Instead of the familiar water-fixtures of America, the 
wash-hand stand, with its outfit of rich English ware and 
supplementary hot-water pitcher ; the walls adorned by a 
few proof copies of valuable engravings framed ; two silver 
candlesticks bef)re the glass upon the dressing-table ; a vase 
with a fresh bouquet of flowers between them ; and, in all 
respects, the room like that of any wealthy country gentle- 
man in America. 

A short time suflSced to remove the stains of travel, and 
we descended to meet our hospitable host. A servant, who 
started out somewhere from the staircase, — they seemed 
to start out from everywhere, like genii in a pantomime, to 
anticipate one's wants, — indicated the apartment to us in 
which our entertainers were, a room with wide windows 
reaching to the floor, and opening out upon the lawn which 
stretched its green carpet far away before us in gentle 
slopes, while at the side ran gravelled and flower-lined paths, 
and plots of various-colored blossoms, the perfume of which 
floated in at the windows. 

Here, in tliis drawing-room, we were presented to our 
host's family of two children, — boys home for a few holi- 
days, — his sister-in-law and son, and, with cordial greet- 
ings, were put at ease and made to feel at home at once, till 
the gentlemanly-looking butler quietly appeared, and an- 
nounced that lunch was served. Giving his arm to my wife, 
mine host invited me to follow, which of course I did, es- 
corting the hostess, and we proceeded to the dining-room, 
where stood the butler by the side-board, looking so much, 
in his dress-coat, white cravat, and gray hair, and general 
eminently respectable get-up, like a certain clergyman I 
knew at home, that I could hardly bring myself to think 
that he was there to turn out the claret for us. 



80 LuircH. 

Luncli consisted of substantial fare enough for a dinner, 
if one would make it so, — chops, broiled chicken, cold 
game pie, cold ham, and other meats, with pickles of various 
kinds, stewed plums, and various "goodies," or perhaps what 
might be termed English appetizers, — for the English lunch 
is the preparer for the later and more substantial dinner. 
The table was rich in damask, solid silver, exquisite glass, 
and shining cutlery ; and the servants — a footman and 
maid, under the command of his highness the butler, at his 
post by the side-board — seemed to understand every move 
that should be made for the guests' convenience, and to ex- 
hibit the host's hospitality to the best advantage. 

Ale, claret, and Rhine wines were served as beverages, a 
glass of the former seeming to be the English preference, 
and the serving of wine the only actual table-service which 
the grand butler performed. He even seemed a little 
wounded in his feelings that his master should presume 
to say, — 

" Eollins, have some Bass ale served ; perhaps it may be 
liked better than our home-brewed." 

"Certainly, sir; I have ordered some." 

And so he had, for the footman straightway made his ap- 
pearance with it. The butler deftly uncorked the bottle ; but 
the footman brought it to table and turned it out. - As soon 
as the lunch was well along, this eminent personage, the 
butler, withdrew, leaving the service of actually waiting 
upon table to his subordinates, direction being no longer 
necessary. 

After lunch, we had the rest of the day before us for 
amusement till half past six, when dinner would be served. 
The gardens were visited, with their gravelled walks, orna- 
mental and fanciful flower-beds, and beautiful shrubbery ; 
the hot-houses, with their grapes and wall-peaches and rarer 
plants ; the kitchen-garden, with its turnips, radishes, let- 
tuce, potatoes, and onion-beds. Then a little detour through 
a grove, and a rest on the greensward beneath the trees. 



AK ENGLISH STABLB-YAED. 81 

Returning, we gentlemen came through the stable-yard, paved 
with stone, well kept and clean, with its great stone water- 
trough in the centre, clock up over the door, and two or 
three of those corduroy-clad, straw-in-mouth sort of young 
fellows, the unmistakable English stable-boy, or, as we 
should' call them in America, "hostlers." The appearance 
of the master, however, seemed to have an effect like that 
of the colonel of a regiment on a visit of barrack inspection. 
Each rose to his feet, caps came off, or were touched re- 
spectfully, when the wearers were spoken to. 

In the well-kept stables we saw the tall carriage-horses, 
the ladies' saddle-horse, and the gentleman's blooded bay, 
good for a gallop across country, a serviceable horse-of-all- 
work for the brougham, another for anything needful, the 
groom's horse, and two clean-limbed steeds that I took to 
be hunters. There were also the stalls for working horses 
that were out upon the place, and for a "rough little cob," 
as the head groom styled him, that the boys were racing 
round with. The carriage-houses contained the stately 
landaulet, the more serviceable snug calling-carriage, a 
brougham, that heavy-timbered vehicle an English dog- 
cart, and a wagonette capable of carrying a party of six ; 
so that, so far as transportation was concerned, our host 
was amply provided. Returned to the library, with its 
book-lined walls, deep windows, classic statuettes, and few 
costly oil-paintings, we chatted with our kind entertainers 
on the, to them, never-tiring theme — -America and the 
Americans, till a bell rang which was the " preparation-bell " 
rung half an hour before dinner ; and we all separated, to 
" dress for dinner." 

Dining at an English gentleman's house is an important 
ceremony, and is done in proper form. One would no more 
think of presenting himself in a frock-coat or light-colored 
pantaloons at the dinner-table than he would in his shirt- 
sleeves or with his hat on. Dressing for dinner means full 
dress: the ladies in evening costume, and the gentlemen in 
6 



82 DRESSING FOR DINNER. 

costume de rigueur of black — dress-coat, low-cut vest, nar- 
row black or white cravat, and spotless linen. 

The dinner-hour varies from half past five to half past 
eight p. M. Many of the city men of ray acquaintance 
left their business at about half past four, reaching their 
homes in the suburbs at about half past five, in time to dine 
at six or half past six, lunch having been taken in the city 
at about half past one. 

On ascending to my room, I found the valet at my door, 
and my wife the little English maid, that had been detailed 
for her service, in like attendance. My guardian threw a 
critical eye over the interior of the apartment as I entered, 
glanced at the stock of towels on the rack, the two tall, 
lighted candles in the silver candlesticks before the dressing- 
glass, at the three others in a handsomely wrought candela- 
bra upon a side-table, at my dress laid out upon two chairs 
and the bed, and desired to know if ■J would like " his 
assistance in dressing, or to dress my hair." 

Being democratic enough to dress myself, I of course 
declined, and the well-drilled servant, indicating the bell- 
rope as before, with a desire " to please ring if he was 
wanted," once more noiselessly withdrew. 

We all met in the drawing-room about ten minutes be- 
fore the dinner-hour. The host begged the honor of escort- 
ing my wife, assigned me to the hostess, his sister-in-law to 
a clergyman who had ridden over to dine with him, another 
gentleman visitor to a lady acquaintance of the hostess ; and 
when, a few moments after, the eminently respectable butler 
announced, " Dinner is served," we passed ceremoniously 
to the dining-room. 

The sideboard flashed with the family plate ; the damask 
table-linen, glittering cutlery, and cut-glass sparkled be- 
neath the chandelier of wax lights ; the butler stood at his 
post by the sideboard, just at the rear of the host's seat, in 
solemn state, a maid-servant behind madam's chair, and a 
footman at either side of the table. Immediately after we 



AN ENGLISH DINNER. 83 

had seated ourselves, in obedience to a glance from the 
host, the clergyman, a bright, rattling fellow of twonty- 
eiglit or thirty, looking as though an officer's uniform 
would have become him better than the straight-cut clerical 
garments worn of the Church of England, suddenly checked 
himself in a galloping description of a flower show, — or 
I should say, sandwiched in between two sentences, soffo 
voce, " For what we rabout to receive metha Lord mekus 
truly thankful ; " closing his eyes for a second only, and 
leaping back to worldliness with a speed that fairly took 
m}' breath away, and somewhat shocked my Puritan ideas 
of the solemnity due to an appeal to the Throne of Grace. 

However, a blessing having been asked, dinner com- 
menced by serving the soup, which was of the first course, as 
we observed on a menu, or little ornamental bill of fare, before 
each plate, — a convenient thing, at an English dinner, for 
regulating one's appetite, and the preventing of exhausting 
or throwing it away upon the wrong course. Fish followed 
the soup, and then came light wines, ordered by the butler, 
but served by the footmen. After the fish came boiled 
mutton, with delicious jelly and accompanying vegetables. 
Then salads and side-dishes. Claret wine was then served. 
Next beef and other roast meats ; and now that the dinner 
was fairly inaugurated, the great butler himself served port 
and sherry, and assisted the ladies gracefully to champagne, 
filling to the brim without spilling a drop. Following the 
meats came a course of game, with the usual accompani- 
ments of jellies and sauces. All this time a lively conver- 
sation was kept up, commenced at first and continued with 
your next neighbor till after the remove of fish, when either 
the wine or the effect of the generous dinner loosened the 
tongues of all in general, — hearty conversation across, 
around, and about the table. 

Under the direction of the butler the removes were made 
with the regularity of machinery, and so timed that no 
hurry was noticeable, no noise or clatter of dishes heard, 



84 THE DESSERT. 

and at the finish of each course it seemed as though, just 
when you ceased, the next was being placed upon the 
board. The butler understood every expression of his 
master's and mistress's countenance ; a quiver of the eye- 
lid, and he dispatched his deputy to fill a half-emptied 
glass. The conversation turned on Madeira wine, and be- 
fore the first sentence was half finished, I observed the 
butler dispatch a servant, who returned with a bottle in a 
twinkling ; so that when his master said, " Rollins, I forgot 
to order some Madeira ; perhaps our friends may like it," 
that worthy immediately responded, "We have some here;" 
and the squeak of the corkscrew mingled with his unctuous 
and respectful tones. A glance from the lady, his mistress, 
and this master of ceremonies proffered a choice bit, or had 
a change of plates, or proffer of side dishes, or vegetables, 
or service made with discernment that was wonderful. In 
fact, as manager of the dinner he was perfection. 

After the different courses — which ended with tarts and 
a species of frozen pudding — had been served, then came 
the dessert of rich grapes, pineapples, hot-house peaches, 
and other fruits. These were in turn followed by figs, rai- 
sins, dried fruits, and nuts. With the fruits came in the 
host's boys, little fellows of eleven and thirteen. They 
had each a wine-glass of claret filled for them, and enjoyed 
themselves over a bunch of grapes, and such other fruit as 
they desired. They only spoke when spoken to, and left 
when the ladies rose to leave the gentlemen at their wine, 
as is the English custom. This occurred after the dried 
fruits, &c., had been discussed, when the hostess set the 
example by rising from her seat. She led the way to the 
door, which was opened by the butler, and was followed by 
the other ladies, the gentlemen standing as they passed out, 
and resuming their seats as the door closed behind them. 
The table, meantime, had been cleared of the remains of the 
dessert, a few fresh grapes, dishes of nuts, dry rusk and 
biscuit, alone remaining. The servants, with the exception 



"we will join the ladies." 85 

of the butler, had retired. That worthy then personally 
placed fresh glasses where wanted, and set the decanters 
and bottles of wine before his master, then placed a hand- 
bell at his elbow, and iu obedience to a nod softly vanished 
through a door. 

There was at this dinner vastly more display than con- 
sumption of wine, as both host and guests were alike some- 
what abstemious. I give, however, a faithful record of 
going through the form and fashion of an English dinner, 
that an idea may be had to what an extent the use of wines 
and liquors prevails in English families. After the ladies 
had retired, we sat and pleasantly chatted, tiie clergyman 
telling the merriest story of any of the party. Cigars were 
not introduced. " We'll go up into the billiard-room and 
smoke, if you like," said the host; but we declined the 
invitation, and continued our conversation. 

At last our host turned out a glass of sherry, and drank 
from it, and passed the decanter to his right-hand neighbor, 
and thought, after it had gone round, "We had better join 
the ladies " I then ascertained that the English fashion — : 
so mine host said, and said he knew not why it was so — 
was that the last glass of wine before leaving the table was 
one of sherry. 

We found the ladies in the drawing-room, and immedi- 
ately on our arrival coffee was brought in by a servant. 
After this we had music from the ladies, an inspection of a 
portfolio of rare engravings, and a collection of photo- 
graphs of celebrated places on the continent, and conversa- 
tion, the clergyman taking his leave about half past nine. 
At ten p. M., precisely, the butler came in and took a can- 
delabra from one of the tables, and my host, turning to me, 
observed, " It is always our custom to have family prayer 
at morning and night. Wo shall be pleased to have you 
join us, if so inclined." Of course we were, and proceed- 
ing to the dining-hall, found the house-servants assembled 
there, who, after we were seated, also sat down. 



86 FIKALE OF THE FEAST. 

The master of the house then read a chapter from the 
Bible, after which a prayer from the prayer-book, all kneel- 
ing during the latter. At the close, we returned to our 
drawing-room, and the servants retired. At half past ten 
we were summoned, ladies and all, to a side-room near the 
dining-hall, where upon a round table were laid out various 
compounds, which in England are thought to compose a 
good "nightcap," but which temperate people look upon as 
incentives to headaches, if not something worse. 

Boiling water in a silver kettle over a spirit lamp was in 
readiness, to make negus from rare old brandy, or punch 
from transparent, mountain-dew whiskey, or hot rum punch 
from the fat-bellied bottles of red Jamaica, or gin toddies 
from the high-shouldered Dutch bottles of that compound, 
had we had taste or stomach for them. We were given to 
understand that we were not expected to retire to bed be- 
cause of this finale to the feast, but that it was always at 
this hour this course was here served, and each followed 
out his taste and inclination of stepping in here at this 
hour, or before retiring, to suit their convenience. 

On retiring, maid and man-servant were in attendance at 
our rooms as before, and we were informed that nine o'clock 
was the hour for family prayer and breakfast, but that the 
latter was served to guests in the house any time after that 
hour till twelve. We chose, however, to be ready at the 
first-mentioned hour next morning, when, as we entered the 
breakfast-room, we found the servants standing in line, 
awaiting us. Prayer was read, after which breakfast was 
served. By the side of each one's plate were any letters 
and papers that had come down for them by the early mail 
from London, and it was quite in order to open and read 
any letters while breakfast was being brought in, that meal 
being one at which no ceremony is required, our host ap- 
pearing in a velvet shooting-jacket, and madam in a morn- 
ing wrapper and plain collar. Everything at this meal 
was free and easy as possible, all ceremony dispensed with, 



AN AMUSING BLUNDER. 87 

a footman and maid performing the service, and those at 
the table reading aloud an occasional extract from the Times 
as they sipped their cofice, giving a bit of news from a 
letter, or making plans for amusement and employment 
during the day. 

An English breakfast is a very different affair from the 
solid, bountiful repast of that name in America. The 
substantial sirloin or tenderloin steak you seldom see at 
an English breakfast-table ; the nearest approach to it is 
"chops," and those are considered hearty for breakfast. 
Those dyspepsia-promoters, the American hot biscuit, are 
also missing. Neither are there oysters, or fried potatoes, 
or buckwheat cakes, and rarely a broiled chicken. Indeed, 
the art of chicken-cooking at all in England is inferior to 
that practised at our American first-class hotels. Neither 
is there hot brown bread, or Indian cake, or flapjacks. 

Tomatoes, which are dressed and eaten in so many foi'ms 
in America, and the various styles of serving oysters, seem 
to be but little known in England. A friend of mine, 
noticing that there were tomatoes exposed for sale at a 
green-grocer's, in a country town in England, near the hotel 
at which he was staying, ordered the landlord to provide 
some for his dinner, and, in answer to the question as to 
how he would have them served, replied, raw. Imagine 
his surprise at finding, when the succulent fruit was served, 
that the cook had scooiDcd out the entire inside of it, 
leaving but a thin rind to be eaten ! 

A still more amusing story is told, of which it is averred 
that no less an important personage than the late George 
Peabody, the celebrated American banker, was the hero. 
It appears that Mr. Peabody had invited three English- 
men to meet two Americans at dinner, and on this occasion, 
having received as a gift ten ears of green corn, determined 
to renew the recollections of his youth, astonish his Eng- 
lish and please his American guests by having it served up 
in the well-known American style. 



88 AN ENGLISH BREAKFAST. 

Accordingly, at a proper time, plates of butter and salt 
were placed before each guest, and the banker, with some-, 
thing of an air of mystery, announced that he was now 
about to treat his guests to a well-known and delicious 
American dish of food, cooked in the American manner. It 
would be no novelty to his American guests, but the Eng- 
lishmen must watch how it was disposed of by them, and 
follow their example and manner of disposing of it. Then, 
at a signal, enter a stately butler bearing a large covered 
dish, which he deposited solemnly before Mr. Peabody. In 
a moment more, in obedience to the banker's nod, he whisked 
off the cover, and there, before the astonished guests, was 
displayed a pile of ten boiled corn cobs ! 

The banker gazed for an instant in mute horror and dis- 
.may, and then found voice to demand an explanation, which 
was finally reached when the cook was summoned, — a fel- 
low who had never before seen an ear of Indian corn in his 
life, — who replied that he had followed his master's direc- 
tions to " strip off all the outside before boiling," which he 
had done most faithfully, not only husks, as was intended, 
but kernels also, so that the banker had only what is in 
America the mute evidence of the feast to indicate what 
were his good intentions to his guests. 

The majority of heavy English diners make a very light 
breakfast ; not but that my host had a profusion, but it was 
of the English style of breakfast : rashers of English bacon 
done to a turn ; eggs dropped, fried, or boiled, the boiler 
placed before you on table, with minute-glass attached to 
regulate cooking to your taste, as no two persons like an 
egg boiled in the same manner ; muffins, fresh, or split 
and toasted ; broiled fish ; a species of toasted or roasted 
herring ; Finian haddock ; cold meats, tongue, and pickled 
tongues, two kinds of cold meats, and cold game pies, 
at the sideboard, from which the servants helped you, or 
it was in order to rise and help yourself. Bread sweet, 
white, and close-grained, at least one day old ; golden but- 



ENJOYMENT OF THE DAY. 89 

ter, and delicious honey to eat with it ; tea or coffee from 
the silver service, at which madam presided, or a mug of 
beer from a silver tankard, if you preferred it. 

Rising from the breakfast-table, we proceed to one of the 
drawing-rooms, with its open windows letting in the flower- 
perfumed breeze from the garden and lawn, and discuss how 
to amuse ourselves for the forenoon. Shall it be horseback- 
riding, croquet on the lawn, a jaunt over to the fish-pond 
and a row upon the water, or a ride in the carriage through 
the leafy lanes and the pleasant country ? We chose the 
last; and carriages and horses were ordered, which soon 
appeared Avith their liveried drivers, and away we bowl over 
the smooth English road, my host's eldest boy scampering 
after or riding before us on his sturdy little pony. 

Returned from the drive, some went to their rooms to 
write letters, the host to the library to see a neighbor who 
liad called on some business matter relating to adjoining 
property, and others to stroll in the garden or beneath the 
great trees of the park, as inclination called. Lunch was a 
repetition of that of the day previous ; but at dinner we had 
a larger company — three or four friends of the host, who 
had been invited to meet us, of which we were apprised at 
lunch, and also told something about them, their history or 
position, so that upon introduction in the drawing-room 
we were not compelled, as is sometimes the case on such 
occasions, to draw out from the person himself who he is, 
his profession or occupation, lest some awkward mistake 
may be made in expression or conversation. 

When the carriages of the visitors were announced, at 
about ten in the evening, we, as guests, had received a 
kind invitation to spend " a few weeks, or at least a week," 
at the estates of each of our newly-made friends, which, 
however, time would not allow. The invitation, .however, 
was none the less genuine and hearty, and, it was even in- 
sisted upon by the givers, should hold till we next visited 
Old England. 



90 TAKING LEAVE. 

When the time came for leaving this elegant and hospi- 
table home, the servants insisted upon packing, and did 
pack, our luggage, and more neatly than we could have 
done it ; and when, informed that the carriage would be at 
the door in ten minutes, we went to our rooms, there were 
footman and maid with articles of wardrobe to be worn for 
the journey ; and our trunks had been sent forward in a 
spring-cart. Of course footman and maid pocket the half 
guinea each, with bow and smile, that was slipped into their 
hands ; and the eminent butler, who accidentally met me on 
the way down, and whose palm was similarly crossed, — for 
I had learned enough of English custom for that, — wished 
us a pleasant journey. 

The footman held open the door of the landaulet, we 
stepped in, having first taken leave of our kind entertain- 
ers, when a servant appeared with salver and glasses for 
" a stirrup cup at parting," and then we rattled down the 
winding avenue, and away for the railway station. Arrived 
there, wraps, hand-luggage, &c., were carried to the wait- 
ing-room by the footman, our trunk pointed out, where it 
had been placed on arrival, tickets procured by the same 
active servitor, who gratefully received five shillings for 
himself and five for the coachman, and, touching his hat, 
wished us a pleasant ride to London, leaped to his place on 
the box, and was bowled away with the driver. 

I have gone through somewhat in detail this account of a 
three-days' visit to the home of an English gentleman, in 
answer to numerous inquiries as to how the English gentle- 
men live at home, and the assertion that few except the 
novel-writer attempt any description, and that such descrip- 
tion must necessarily be like the novel — not to be depended 
on as a truthful account. 

It will be seen that, with some trifling differences, the 
life at an English gentleman's country-seat is very similar to 
that of our own men of wealth. To be sure, the American 
gentleman, as a general thing, would not permit his guests 



EN^GLISH DOMESTIC SERVICE. 91 

to fee his servants, and indeed many English gentlemen will 
not permit it. Whether my host was one of the latter class 
I never ascertained ; but, it being a first experience, I de- 
termined that his servants should not have occasion to give 
Americans a bad name, and hence took the safe side. Feeing 
is so universal in England, and it seems to be so expected 
by any official who does you the smallest service, that your 
hand almost gets the habit of seeking your pocket whenever 
you ask a question that requires an answer conveying infor- 
mation. 

The consumption of wines and liquors, as is well known, 
is enormous in England, and wine is used freely and liber- 
ally at the dinner-table, a well-stocked cellar being one of 
the first requisites of a well-ordered establishment. 

One thing that charms American visitors, especially ladies 
from the noi'thern states, who have been tormented almost 
out of their senses by the Irish peasants who pretend to 
serve them as servants at home, is the admirable service in 
these English families. All appears to move without a 
jar; the servants, to use an American expression, "run the 
house," and strive to anticipate a want and execute a wish 
before an order is given. Then, again, each one seems to 
know his position and to understand its duties thoroughly, 
and to take a pride in executing them properly. It seemed, 
while we were making tlie three-days' visit above described, 
that invisible servants watched us from behind concealed 
panels, and sprang out at the slightest possible provocation. 

Did we leave our rooms but for fifteen minutes, everything 
misplaced was put in order again, a soiled towel replaced 
b}^ a fresh one, or a garment dropped to the floor taken up, 
and everything set to rights. 

It should of course be borne in mind that the servants 
in a family like tliis belong to it, as it were, and may be 
said to be part of the establishment, filling, perhaps, posi- 
tions once occupied by their fathers or mothers, or other 
relatives, who may have served the father and mother of 



92 CATCHING A TRAIN". 

the present proprietor, and were, moreover, of the same 
nationality and religion as their employers. Then, compar- 
atively few Americans are sufficiently wealth^', and others 
are too democratic, to support such a retinue of menials 
about them ; or, as an American lady remarked, it is next 
to impossible to get, for any amount of money, eight or ten, 
or even four, servants in America that will live in any family 
a year in peace together. 



CHAPTER y. 

We often read in English stories or novels that one of the 
characters had "just time to catch the express train" for 
some place. This " catching a train," it should be under- 
stood by the American reader, is a very different affair from 
the catching of it in his own country, for it signifies that 
the individual had suflScient time to reach and enter the 
railway carriage just before the guard had closed the doors 
and given the signal to start. After that had been done, 
no matter who arrived, he was too late. 

In America, however, if by dint of a smart run the be- 
lated passenger is enabled to reach the hand-rail of the last 
car of the rapidly receding train, as it is leaving the station, 
and is hauled on board minus his hat or a part of his coat, 
perhaps helped by railway baggage-masters to " catch the 
train," he is congratulated by the conductor on his skill in 
"jest savin' it," instead of being fined and reprimanded for 
thus risking his life. Indeed, the average American so 
thoroughly believes in taking the responsibility, that he 
resents the erection of gates, now being generally introduced 
in our great cities, separating the track from the withdraw- 
ing or waiting rooms, at railroad stations, or any interfer- 



AGAINST REGULATIONS. 93 

once with his getting on or off a train in motion, with the 
idea, perhaps, that no person in this land of liberty has any- 
right to restrain him even from putting his life in jeopardy 
if he himself elects to do so. 

The laws against getting on or off moving railway trains 
in England are very strict, and also in guarding the tracks 
at the stations and their vicinity, and are not to be infringed 
upon or broken with impunity, as an American friend of the 
author recently found to his sorrow. 

He chanced to bo on a train going to London, and had 
written to have his luggage from a certain point sent to 
meet him, to be put on board the train at an intermediate 
station. Arrived at the latter place, where the train stopped 
a few moments, he leaped from the railway carriage, leaving 
his wife and fi'iends, while he sought for his luggage to 
place on the train ; but in vain. Meanwhile the time for 
starting arrived, yet still he tarried, thinking to jump on at 
the last moment, American fashion, and started to do so, 
but was restrained by an official. 

" But I must go on this train ; my wife 's aboard," said 
the anxious American. 

" Can't help it, sir; train's in motion; against regulations." 

" But you are going," said the traveller, as he marked 
the long train gradually moving, car after car, past them, 
and the official preparing to take his place, 

"Certainly; I'm the guard — last man on. I take the 
van. Stand back ! " 

So saying, the guard, or, as we call him, the conductor, 
pushed back the American and leaped to his place on the 
step of the guard's van, or last carriage in the train. 

Quick as he was, the American was equal to him, for with 
two or three bounds, despite the cries and rush of the por- 
ters, he leaped after the guard, clung to him on the step of 
the carriage, and both were whirled out of the station in 
that manner, after which they tumbled into the compartment 
of the guard together. That official was white with rage. 



94 THE ' POLICEMAN IN PLAIN CLOTHES.' 

" I told you that you could not get upon the train when 
it was in motion." 

" Ah ! but you see I did." 

" Do you know that we both narrowly missed being 
hit by that iron crane as the train went out of the sta- 
tion?" 

" A miss, my good fellow, is as good as a mile." 

" And you have broken the regulations, and made me 
and yourself liable to prosecution." 

" 0, fudge ! The company won't take the trouble to 
prosecute, I guess," said the Yankee. But this time his 
national guess was incorrect. 

The train was an express, and he rode in the guard's van 
more than fifty miles before another stop enabled him to 
rejoin his party in the other carriage and continue his jour- 
ney to London, during which the matter passed from his 
mind. 

Arrived at the station in London, our American secured 
a four-wheeler, selected his luggage, had it placed on the 
roof of the vehicle, bestowed wife and party inside, and 
was about following, when he was tapped on the shoulder 
by a quiet, plainly-dressed individual, who remarked, — 

" Sorry to detain you, really ; very unpleasant duty ; but 
you are wanted on charge of assaulting the guard in the 
discharge of his duty as the train left Leamington." 

Here the official displayed a paper and his credentials, 
leaving no doubt he was one of those " policemen in plain 
clothes " whom Dickens and the English story-tellers write 
about. 

Here was a dilemma. A stranger in London, after dark, 
arrested ! What should he do ? He at once explained. 
He was an American tourist; was not aware of the law. 
His wife and he both strangers. " Hadn't even been to their 
hotel yet. Couldn't it be arranged in the morning ? " 

" 0, certainly, if he would kindly give his card," the 
official would call at his hotel at eleven to-morrow. 



UNDER SURVEILLANCE. 95 

No sooner said than done. The American whipped out his 
card-case, handed over the bit of pasteboard to the officer, 
who glanced at it, nodded to the cab-driver, who closed the 
door of the vehicle, and the party were soon rattling over 
the London pavements. As they wliirled along, the first 
view of London by gaslight was forgotten in the explana- 
tion of the affair by the American to his wife. " But it is 
all over now, I guess," said he, " for, although I gave the 
fellow my name, I didn't give him my address, and he won't 
know where to come to-morrow, after all." 

Here again was a mistaken guess, for a second thought 
might have informed him that the number of every cab ad- 
mitted in the railway station was known ; that he had given 
his direction to the driver before being accosted by the 
officer, and thereby the latter had obtained his address ; and 
that, if the case had been of sufficient importance, the cab 
could easily have been followed by another, even if the 
driver had not been instructed to notify the officer where he 
left his fare. 

However, our tourist, feeling somewhat uneasy, related 
the aifair to an English friend, whom he met on arrival at 
the hotel, who did not relieve his anxiet}'' by looking grave, 
shaking his head, and remarking they had best both go to 
the railway manager's office next morning. This they did, 
and, through the intervention of a personal friend of one of 
the directors, after apologies and explanations, the American 
departed, glad to have got rid, as he supposed, of this un- 
pleasantness. 

About five days after, having meantime changed his hotel, 
our American citizen had business down in the City, after 
transacting which he had agreed to meet his wife and a 
friend at Westniinster Hall, to view that noted building. 
Standing near the entrance, and awaiting her coming, he 
was astonished to observe her to be accompanied by two 
gentlemen instead of one. The second was introduced as 
a person who had called at the hotel to see the American on 



96 AN IJNCOMFORTAELE POSITION. 

private business. He was a respectable-looking individual 
of about fifty years of age, dressed in a pepper-and-salt suit, 
and, stepping aside, presented to the tourist his card, which 
bore the 'inscription, " Mr. John Lund, Chief of Police, 
Leamington." 

He was very polite ; was very sorry he had a disagree- 
able duty to perform ; and he drew out a formidable-looking 
document, with a prodigious formula of English expression, 
and several staring seals, which cited the offence our trav- 
eller had committed upon one of her Majesty's servants, and 
summoned the offender to appear on the following Wednes- 
day (it was then Saturday) at "the aforesaid" Leamington. 

"I was coming up to London myself," said the oflBcial, 
apologetically, " and thought I would serve this, to make 
it as comfortable as possible." 

It was useless for the American to state that the matter 
had all been settled by the railway manager ; of this the 
polite chief of police knew nothing. The first arrest was 
probably at the instance of the officials of the railway com- 
pany in London ; but this was by the police authorities of 
Leamington, of which he was chief. The ofiScial would not 
be satisfied except by a visit of the American and responsi- 
ble friend again to the manager's office at the London sta- 
tion, where it was arranged that the traveller would appear 
and answer on the following week, if the affair was not 
settled before ; and the polite chief of the Leamington police 
took his departure. 

However, the visit to Westminster Hall was given up 
for that day, and the American began to wish he never had 
jumped upon that railroad train. Supposing all right now, 
however, he forgot all about it again, until it was unpleas- 
antly brought to mind on the following Sunday by a note 
sent him by private hand, from hip friend, to a place where 
he was spending the day. 

This note informed him that the affair had quite a serious 
look ; that the general managers at Leamington had been 



A FIVE POUND PENALTY. 97 

mulcted for damages for an accident that occurred at that 
point a few months since ; and that his jumping upon the 
train had been witnessed by two of the principal directors, 
as well as by one of the local police, and it was determined 
to punish any such criminal recklessness, hence the summons, 
&c. This the London railway ofiBcial had by his personal 
influence succeeded in postponing for a few days, but an ex- 
pense of three pounds ten shillings had been incurred, and 
perhaps it would be best to arrange that before Mr. John 
Lund or another official came up to London again. 

Our American was now getting nervous and scared. He 
at once saw his English friend in London, and proceeded to 
" arrange " the matter as was suggested. Then, returning 
to his hotel, he ordered a cab to take himself and luggage to 
a railway station, bidding the landlord good-by as if going to 
Scotland. After being landed at the railway station, and 
after having discharged the cabman, he took another cab, 
and drove to a new hotel, in the hope that by this means 
Mr. John Lund might be dodged until he departed for Paris, 
which seems to have been successfully done ; but the reason 
therefor was explained in the following letter sent to him by 
his friend, who had arranged matters, and who received it 
from the railway authorities. 

" I think I have arranged matters for the withdrawal of 
the summons. The expenses incurred amount to three 
pounds ten shillings. If your American friend pays this, 
and at the same time wishes to benefit the Widow and 
Orphans' Fund Association of the railway line, a check for 
five pounds in full will be received." 

It is almost unnecessary to state that the American's Eng- 
lish friend did the needful instanter, and the American him- 
self breathed freer accordingly, although it had cost him 
twenty-five dollars for jumping upon an English train in 
motion. 

1 



98 A EIDE IN LONDON. 



CHAPTER VI. 

London, according to the Registrar-General, covers an area 
of one hundred and twenty-two square miles, although it is 
described as thirty miles in circumference. To the newly- 
arrived American, London appears to be an aggregation of 
cities, a collection of interminable streets, with houses and 
public buildings rather dingy of aspect, and lacking that 
" smart," bright, and fresh appearance which characterizes 
American cities. 

I might expend a volume of description and a year of 
time in prying about into curious old courts, streets cele- 
brated in history, beginning with the old Watling Street of 
the Anglo-Saxons, and where in more modern Roman times 
was the centre of Roman Londinum ; or into old mansions 
where kings, princes, and warriors have met, or scholars 
iave studied ; or on spots where fierce contests and bloody 
disputes have decided for the time the course of the rulers 
of the present foremost nation of the world. All about us 
in the old city are monuments of the past ; even the com- 
monest names upon the street signboards are indices to a 
page of history. 

But " What is there new ? " asked an American one 
morning, as we discussed our " chops and muflSns." " Let 
us see the newest sights to-day ; " and so it came to pass that 
we called a trim Hansom cab for a drive from the West End 
to the Bethnal Gi-een Museum, or rather we should say to 
the Bethnal Green branch of the South Kensington Museum. 
Now this is a long ride, and a genuine Londoner would first 
have taken a 'bus on Oxford Street, ridden down to the 
Bank (fourpence), then another 'bus or the " underground," 
and another sixpence would have carried him to the desired 



OLD HOLBORN BARS. 99 

point. But one of the best vehicles to see London in is a 
Hansom cab, and when two persons sight-seeing can engage 
such a vehicle, with a bright, well-posted driver, as we were 
able to, at one shilling and sixpence an hour, what American 
would hesitate ? Accordingly, on our trip to Bethnal Green, 
or Bednal Green, celebrated in the old ballad of the Blind 
Beggar of Bednal Green, we determined to see as much as 
possible of London streets en route. • 

So away we dashed down through Oxford Street, with its 
shops and crowds of people, whirling carriages, and rattling 
omnibuses, till we debouched into Holborn, — " High Hol- 
born," the Holborn Hill of old London; but scarce any one 
mentions it except as " Holborn," or " 'Oburn," now, for 
instead of the descent of the hill, a broad viaduct now gives 
a level grade for us to rattle over at a smart pace, and look 
downwards towards the old Fleetditch (was there ever such 
a place ?) off towards Smithfield, or down at a terminus of 
that wonderful hole in the ground, the Loudon Underground 
Railway. 

Just before arriving at this great viaduct, we have passed 
the Holborn Bars, the position of which is marked by an 
inscription painted upon an old building, at which a toll is 
levied on "vehicles not belonging to freemen," entering the 
city. Only think of it, — " entering the cit}--," — the coun- 
try from which the strangers used to come, the great city 
has long since overflowed, and from these Holborn Bars you 
may now ride back into what was then the country for miles 
and miles, and not begin to be out of the city, or free from 
its endless succession of shops, streets, and houses. 

Away we rattle and leave Holborn behind us ; the throngs 
are denser, the vehicles innumerable, and the confusion 
greater, till we are down into the actual " City," as the 
Londoner calls it, in the very thick of London business. 
Cheapside and Poultry, near Newgate Street, and little nar- 
row Paternoster Row, the place noted of the publishing- 
houses, past an end view of the great general post-office, 



100 BOW BELLS AND OLD JEWKY. 

amid the thunder and crush of all sorts of vehicles ; past 
Milk Street, where Sir Thomas More was born, and little 
narrow Bread Street, opposite where the poet Milton first 
saw the light, and in which was the old tavern where 
Shakspeare, Raleigh, Beaumont, Fletcher, and Ben Jonson 
used to meet — the Mermaid. 

There are historic events enough that are strung along 
Cheapside to make a catalogue of enumerations ; and one 
thing you, as a stranger, like to hear in this vicinity, if you 
are near enough to Bow Church, as you have to be, owing 
to the noise, is the sound of Bow bells, and to see if by 
any effort of your modern imagination their chime can be 
converted into the ancient couplet they are said to have 
sung to Dick Whittington. 

Here runs into the end of Cheapside, or the Poultry, as 
it is called from its hundreds-of-years ago poultry-market, 
" Old Jewry," of course once the quarters of the Jews, that 
the old Noi'man kings used to amuse themselves with hack- 
ing and burning, squeezing money from, and abusing, and 
all under the name of Religion. Manj'^ have been the attacks 
of popular fury directed upon this quarter, and the history 
of the Hebrews in London in past years, as. elsewhere, is one 
of shameful wrong and persecution. There is very little of 
a Jewish character about the street now, except its name, 
and if you search history you will have to go back into the 
foggy, misty accounts of six hundred years ago to find 
when the Hebrews held possession of and gave the locality 
its name, when the first synagogue of the Jews stood there 
in 1264. If one wishes to see the Jews of to-day in London, 
let him take a walk through Holiwell Street, or Hounsditch. 

But near the corner of old Jewry Street and Cheapside, 
or between it and a narrow lane called Ironmongers' Lane, 
stands a building called the Mercers' Company's Hall, and 
we halted to pay ifc a visit, for here is where stood the house 
of the father of Thomas a Becket, and is where that cele- 
brated prelate is said to have been born. 



THE ENGLISH GUILDS. 101 

These Mercers, and Fishmongers, Barber-surgeons, Gro- 
cers, Goldsmiths, &c., were the guilds or trades-unions of 
their time, and there used to be over a hundred of them, all 
with certain rights and privileges, and those which remain 
having halls, records, and histories preserved, are in them- 
selves a rich mine of antiquarian lore. Some of these bear 
names of trades the very existence of which has passed 
away and is now forgotten, as, for instance, " bowyers," 
makers of bows, and "loriners," the latter name of which a 
tailor who served me had inscribed on his card with some- 
thing of a flourish, showing that he was a member of that 
illustrious society. And loriuer was the ancient name for 
harness and bridle-makers. 

Thirty or forty of these city societies have halls ; some are 
very rich, and the members in no way whatever connected 
with the trades which the name of the society represents. In 
fact, I think there is only one now, " The Stationers," that 
requires that its members shall be members of its trade. 
The members of others have the management of trust funds 
left for schools, hospitals, or homes for decayed members 
of the craft, which institutions are still in existence, and ex- 
cellent charitable institutions. 

In these old halls, several of which I visited, are many 
curious old records and relics which the custodian in charge, 
who is generally a garrulous old fellow, with the legends 
and stories of the society at his tongue's end, will, if it be 
set in motion by the magic of half a crown, rattle off curious 
old legends in the dim, dreamy, half-darkened halls to you, 
as he points to an age-blackened picture of some royal patron 
of the society, permits you to sit in the great, carved, un- 
comfortable arm-chair that has been the seat of a long line 
of departed presidents of the club, or lifts reverently fi'om 
its caje the silver loving-cup from which, for three centuries 
past, members have sipped their spiced potations. And it 
must be confessed that the present members of these city 
companies are much given to good eating and drinking at 



102 THOMAS X BECKEt's BIRTHPLACE. 

their quarterly or annual meetings, when they come tog-ether 
to give an account of the present management of the funds 
which the old founders left for the support of needy 
members, almshouses, or other charitable trusts above re- 
ferred to. 

This Mercers' Hall on Cheapside was one of the most 
celebrated of those of the city companies, and the society 
boasted sovereigns on its list of members — Richard II., 
who granted its first charter. Queen Elizabeth was an hon- 
orary member ; also Sir Thomas Gresham, Caxton, and 
Whittington. A fine old picture of Gresham, a cup from 
which- Whittington, perhaps, has sipped his punch, and 
specimens of fine old plate of the sixteenth century, are 
among the treasures of the Mercers. 

And here it was, just back of this hall stood the house 
of Gilbert a Becket, Here it was, so the romantic story 
runs, that the Saracen maiden, an emir's daughter, whose 
heart he had won when a prisoner in the East during the 
crusades, found him after many wanderings. The faithful- 
ness of her attachment is told in old Euglish story and 
ballad, which describes her adventures in coming from her 
native land to England alone, and knowing but two words 
of the language, " London " and " Gilbert ; " she sought 
her Christian lover, reached London, and at last, after tire- 
some wanderings from street to street, repeating the name 
of Gilbert, and winning all hearts by her beauty and modesty, 
had the satisfaction of finding him, and, what was better, 
finding him faithful and true ; for he at once took her to his 
heart, presented her to his friends as his betrothed, and, 
after being baptized in the Christian faith, she became the 
bride of him she had so truly loved and faithfully sought. 

Here is an extract from the ballad that the tourist may 
prime his imagination with when he halts at, as we did in 
the last cliapter, or passes Becket's birthplace, near the 
corner of " Old Jewry," or bring to mind when he visits 
Canterbury Cathedral, and follows the course said to have 



THE BALLAD OF BECKET, 103 

been taken by the " turbulent priest " (as King Henry II. 
called him) when pursued by the avenging knights to the 
place where his brains spattered on the stone pavement 
beneath the fierce blow of Richard le Bret ; the child of 
the English merchant and Saracen mother becoming one of 
the most celebrated martyrs in English history. 

" It was a merchant, a merchant of fame, 
And he sailed to the Holy Land ; 

Gilbert k Bccket was his name ; 

And he went to trade with the Syrians rich, 
For velvets and satins and jewels, which 

He might sell on the western strand. 

*' It was there he met with a Saracen maid, 
Of virtue and beauty rare ; 
And behold, our merchant forgot his trade, 
His English habits aside he flung. 
And he learned to speak with a Saracen tongue, 
For the sake of that damsel fair. 

" They plighted their faith, and they vowed to wed, 
If Gilbert should e'er be free ; 

How could she doubt a word he said? 

For her heart was trustful, pure, and mild. 
Like the heart of a young, unfearing child, 

And she loved him hopefully." 

The merchant and fair Saracen planned an escape, but the 
latter was discovered, and the Englishman fled alone. The 
maiden escaped from iier jailers, however, and some English 
sailors, pitying her beseeching tones of " London," which 
was the only word she uttered, gave her passage. When 
arrived at the strange city — 

" Through all that maze of square and street, 
With pleading looks she went ; 
And still her weary voice was sweet. 

But now was " Gilbert " the name she cried; 
And the world of London is very wide, 
And they knew not whom she meant. 

" Now Gilbert a Bocket was dwelling there. 
Like a merchant-prince was he ; 



104 BUSINESS CENTKE OP LONDON". 

His gardens ■were wide and his halls were fair, 
His servants flattered, his minstrels played, 
He had almost forgotten his Saracen maid. 

And their parting beyond the sea." 

But word was brought him, as he sat at the banquet board, 
of a beautiful Saracen, who wandered through square and 
street, murmuring " Gilbert" to all she met, and, as the bal- 
lad goes, " his conscience pricked him sore." He sought the 
wanderer out, found that it was indeed his Saracen maid — 

" And now there is nothing can part, save death, 
The bridegroom and the bride." 

" Their first-born son was a priest of power, 

Who ruled on English ground ; 
His fame remaineth to this hour ! 

God send to every valiant knight 

A lady as true, and a home as bright. 
As Gilbert, the merchant, found." 

But the Hansom cannot stop here long in the rush of 
travel, so we rattle on amid the throng, on in between the 
Bank of England and the Eoyal Exchange into Threadneedle 
Street. Boys selling penny boxes of matches, uniformed 
shoeblacks at the corners, hawkers and street pedlers of 
everything, porters in a sort of uniform apron, and wearing 
a brass ticket or medal of oflSce, cabs coming, going, halting, 
twisting and turning ; omnibuses at this, the terminus of their 
route, discharging and reloading ; snug broughams of rich 
old capitalists leaving or receiving their owners ; hurrying 
clerks with pen behind ear and slip of paper in hand, police- 
men, letter-carriers in uniform with sacks over their shoul. 
ders, the important beadle at the entrance of the bank, sta- 
tioner}'' stores crammed with every article used in counting- 
house work, — all proclaim we are in the business centre 
of the great commercial capital of the world, directly oppo- 
site the entrance to the Bank of England, spreading its 
wings over eight acres of ground, keeping a thousand clerks 
at work, who have over six millions and a half dollars of the 



A CHEAP NEIGHBORHOOD. 105 

public and about one hundred and forty millions of private 
funds paid in every week, and who have to keep the ac- 
counts of over two hundred and forty thousand persons 
•holding the national debt. 

But we will not go over the old story of the Bank, so 
familiar to all, but let our driver, with his skill of twisting 
and turning, wind his Hansom in and out of the crowd till 
we are past Merchant Tailors' Hall, through narrow Thread- 
needle, and rolling along Bishopsgate Street, another old 
street, named from the old city gates, built in 680 ; " Bish- 
opsgate within," and " Bishopsgate without," names used 
to this day, meaning that part of the city that was within 
the walls and without them. This used to be an aristocratic 
street about the year 1500, and there are some antiquated 
old piles here that look as if they belonged to about that 
period ; but past them we rattle, past , an endless, never- 
ceasing string of stores of every description, en route to 
Bethnal Green, where the "Blind Beggar" sat, whose fair 
daughter, as the ballad runs, was married to a knight, and 
at the betrothal, in a money-dropping match with some of the 
sneering gallants of the time, the apparent beggar sur- 
prising them by dropping a heap of gold pieces, double the 
size of that of his pretentious reviler, and finally declared 
and proved himself and daughter to be of noble birth, 
winding up the story in the usual approved style of a happy 
marriage. 

We ride from Bishopsgate Street to Shoreditch, and are 
evidently in a cheap neighborhood, and one especially where 
bootmakers seem to congregate. Cheap John stores, green- 
grocers, fisli-stalls, and a preponderance of small spirit stores, 
and children coming out from outlying alleys, are symp- 
toms of a poor neighborhood ; yet this, years ago, was a 
goodly city quarter, this east end of the town. Here, 
jnst before us, rises a church-steeple, St, Leonard's Church, 
in whose burial-ground sleep Burbage, the celebrated actor 
of Shakspeare's plays, and his associate, Will Somers, 



106 FIVE MILES FEOM CHAEING CROSS. 

the noted jester of King Henry the Eighth, and Eichard 
Tarleton, the ,clown of Shakspeare's plays in Queen Eliza- 
beth's time, besides Cowley and William Sly, original actors 
in the great poet's plays. 

The cab-driver, it seems, has heard of Will Somers, but 
the others are names unknown to him. " Never 'eard of 
'em, sir ; but Will Somers, you see, was a funny fellow who 
used, they say, to make the king laugh when he felt dull." 

The Hansom turned into Church Street, and brought up 
opposite a fine open square, in which stood the object of our 
search. Bethnal Green Museum, at the East End of London, 
five miles from Charing Cross — a five-mile cab-ride — and 
still we were in a densely populated district. This Museum 
was placed here as a branch of the South Kensington Mu- 
seum, which is in a more aristocratic quarter, in order that 
one of the poorest districts of London might have a means 
of free recreation, although I must confess, from the char- 
acter of the collection, it seemed to me that the proper 
enjoyment of it must be far beyond the average compre- 
hension of the poorer class, who would fail to see in many 
of the rare articles of virtu, antiquity, and bijouterie, 
anything but faded gilding or old trumpery. Let me not 
judge too harshly, however, for the open-mouthed wonder 
and the undisguised gaze of rapture of a rough group be- 
fore Murillo's paintings and Landseer's almost living ani- 
mals, proved their enjoyment of genuine art, and were mute 
evidence of the power of the artists. 

This museum building is of dark-red brick, the front with 
three arches, and the sides two and a half stories high, 
looking like a very respectable railroad station. In the great 
open space of the grounds which surround it, and in front of 
the principal entrance, is an elegant fountain, made entirely 
of majolica ware, and consisting of vases, cups, and figures, 
from which the spouting streams of water rise in graceful 
jets, the whole being surmounted by the figure of St. 
George and the Dragon. The space in which this museum 



BETHNAL GREEN MUSEUM. 107 

is built is one end of a great open plot that was bought as 
a gift to the poor in the reign of James the First, when this 
part of London, now a densely populated manufacturing 
district, was an open field. 

This move to afford entertainment and instruction to the 
working classes, it should be understood, is supported and 
carried out by the government, although the collection on 
exhibition, when the author visited the building, was that of 
a private individual. Sir Richard Wallace, and occupied 
nearly .the whole available space of the museum. It con- 
sisted of pictures and works of art of the rarest and most 
curious description. 

The design of this museum, like its parent the South 
Kensington, is to afford instruction as well as entertainment, 
and that there should be exhibited an Animal Products Col- 
lection intended to illustrate the various applications of 
animal substances to industrial purposes ; a food collec- 
tion of the different kinds of grain from different coun- 
tries, and all kinds of food such as could be exhibited, and 
methods of their preparation, — a most interesting part of 
the exhibition. Then there are woods and the different meth- 
ods of working them, metals, &c., all of which will, when 
the design is carried out, form a grand trade museum, which 
here at the East End of the town cannot fail of being of 
great value to the mass of artisans who live in this vicinity. 

On Mondays, Tuesdays, and Saturdays the museum is 
opened free from 10 a. m. to 10 p. m. Wednesdays, 
Tiiursdays, and Fridays are designated as students' days, 
and on those days sixpence admission is charged, although 
tickets are issued available both for this museum and for the 
South Kensington one at, weekly for sixpence, monthly one 
shilling sixpence, and quarterly three shillings. Yearly 
tickets for students' days are issued to any school at one 
pound, which will admit all the j^ujjUs of such school on all 
students' days for a year, — liberal arrangements enough 
to suit all who desire to go on other than the free days. 



108 AN ADMIRABLE INSTITUTION. 

The site for this museum was purchased by money sub- 
scribed by noblemen and other wealthy people, and pre- 
sented to the government in fee simple for the purpose of 
having a museum erected thereon, the government taking the 
whole matter then into its hands as a national affair. The 
committee making this offer submitted that the museum 
should be made educational in the widest sense of the word, 
and that convenient and comfortable refreshment rooms be 
added to the other attractions of the place. 

The basement of the building, which contains several well- 
arranged, well-lighted rooms, has therefore a large space 
devoted to a restaurant, and the other rooms were used for 
library rooms, and for school-rooms, for instruction in draw- 
ing, engineering, designing, and other branches of science and 
art. The interior arrangement of this museum above the base- 
ment floor is simple and convenient for the purposes for which 
it was designed. It consists of a large hall, around which 
runs a double gallery ; the first gallery is raised but a few 
feet above the main floor, and is about a dozen feet in 
height, and that above it, which is reached by staircases in 
the middle, is of much greater height, reaching to the light- 
arched roof, with its graceful iron frame ; all the supports, 
balcony and railings inside the building are of iron ; and 
light, admitted from the arched roof, and also at the sides 
of the galleries, is artistically managed. The galleries are 
very wide, suflSciently so for a row of large glass cases of 
six feet in width, or screens for pictures, and yet leave 
abundance of room for locomotion. The chief attraction, 
when the author visited this museum, was the magnificent 
collection known as the Hertford Collection of Art Objects, 
which filled the whole available space of the museum, except 
that portion of the lower galleries occupied by the food and 
animal product collections. It seems hardly possible that 
even the chance or thoughtless visitor can walk through this 
or the parent museum, and question the practical utility of 
such institutions with the people. 



THE ROYAL ALBERT HALL. 109 



CHAPTER YII. 

Two of the more modern wonders of London, and two of 
which too little has been said, and that travellers should not 
fail to visit, are but a short distance fi'om the Kensington 
Museum, which I have recently referred to so frequently, — 
the Royal Albert Ilall of Arts, and the Prince Consort Me- 
morial or Monument. The Royal Albert Hall is a magnifi- 
cent building, elegant in proportions, perfect for the purposes 
for which it was designed, and the noble proportions and 
conveniences of which cannot fail to excite the admiration 
of the visitor. 

This great hall, which is designed for public meetings, 
musical entertainments, meetings of science and art, exhibi- 
tions, concerts, &c., is situated in Hyde Park, directly in 
front of the elegant Horticultural Gardens, and between the 
Cromwell and Kensington road. Directly opposite is the 
most magnificent modern monument in the world, — the 
Albert Memorial,; — and near by the Kensington Palace and 
the Kensington Grardens, rich in their beautiful old trees and 
fine vista of view, making this one of the most pleasant and 
attractive spots in London. If Prince Albert had left 
nothing else by which he might be remembered, the de- 
sign of this noble building, which he himself suggested, 
would be sufficient to perpetuate his name. Externally it 
presents the appearance of a vast circular building of brick, 
with high, narrow windows, above which was a broad band 
of colored mosaic work representing the peoples of all 
nations, other simple but eff'ective ornamentations in the 
trimmings being properly placed. 

The building really consists of two concentric circles or 
brick walls. Between these is a wide space in which are 



110 - GEAND AUDITORIUM. 

the staircases, lobbies, ante-rooms, elevators, &c., and in the 
lower portion of which, in 18 T3, was disposed a portion of 
the annual display of the International Exhibition, with the 
buildings of which the hall was easily connected by a cov- 
ered passage and walk through the Horticultural Gardens. 
These corridors, or space between the walls, are admirably 
arranged, so that all noise or movement therein is entirely 
shut off from the audience within. But step within, and 
you have a view reminding you of what the form of Rome's 
Colosseum would be restored, only somewhat reduced, 
though by no means of insignificant proportions for these 
modern days. 

A vast, perfect circus, with the seats rising one above 
the other, and the graceful curve of beauty greeting the 
eye at every turn, meets the view. The great arena seats 
a thousand persons easily and comfortably ; an amphithe- 
atre fifteen hundred. Midway rises a girdle of two tiers 
of boxes, which take in eleven hundred more, then circles 
round a graceful balcony, in which twenty-five liundred 
more may look upon the scene, and above circles a gallery 
where two thousand more may comfortably be accommo- 
dated. One hardly realizes the vastness of the building at 
first sight, so perfect are the cuives, and so m.uch is taken 
in at one sweep of the vision. At one end is situated the 
grand organ and the orchestra, in which space is afforded 
for two thousand performers ; so that the seating capacity 
of this grand modern circus is fully eight thousand ; and 
I have no doubt that nearly ten thousand could easily be 
accommodated within its walls. In fact, that is the number 
reported to have been present at the M;' sonic ceremonies 
which took place there, by which the Prince of Wales was 
created Grand Master of the order. 

The dome of the building i;^ entirely of glass, but a novel 
and pleasing effect is obtained by the suspension of a sort 
of tent beneath, — an ide^ borrowed perhaps from the vela- 
rium which shielded the audience in the Roman Colosseum, 



A WELL-PLANXED INTERIOR. Ill 

and which softens the glare of light, and imparts a certain 
air of grace and coolness to the space. 

The dimensions given are : the greatest width, two hun- 
dred foet ; length, one hundred and sixty feet ; and height, 
from arena to dome, one hundred and forty feet. The dome 
is formed of huge iron ribs resting in an iron ring. The 
cost of this splendid building was over two hundred thou- 
sand pounds. 

Tlie coup cVveil from the front of the arena, when it is 
filled with spectators, is magnificent in the extreme ; and 
the great organ, which some of the local guide-books aver 
to be tlie finest in the world, may be so, but it certainly was 
not played as well as that of Lucerne or Freyburg. The 
one thing that will strike the visitor who has opportunity to 
examine this building by daylight, as I did, is its many 
conveniences and improvements over ordinary exhibition- 
halls or concert-rooms. The chairs in the arena are roomy 
and comfortable, the boxes are commodious and well fitted, 
the spacious corridors T have before alluded to afford ample 
space for promenade ; then there are refreshment-rooms, 
retiring-rooms, and in wings of the main building are a 
promenade-room, restaurant, and small concert-room, steam- 
engines which heat the building, run the elevator, blow the 
big organ, and keep ventilating-fans in motion that regulate 
the temperature of the hall. There are abundant doors for 
ingress and egress, and in fact the architects and builders 
seem to have been successful in remembering many minor 
points that are too frequently forgotten, but which conduce 
much to the comfoi't of a large audience. 

The sumptuous and costly monument to Prince Albert, 
opposite the Albert Hall, would very naturally make one 
wonder what mighty warrior, great statesman, savior of 
his countr}', or public benefactor it was erected to commem- 
orate, although perhaps it may be said no monument is too 
grand for a true and honest niau*. But when we consider 
what England and the whole civilized world owes to many 



112 COSTLIEST MONUMENT OF MODEEN TIMES. 

of her sons who have scarcely memorial stone to mark their 
last resting-place, we look with some surprise at this na- 
tional monument, erected to one not born on her soil, whose 
chief notoriety was that he was husband to the queen of 
England, and who, without being a man of any especial 
genius or great force of character, was noted chiefly for 
a blameless life, and as an upright man and exemplary 
husband. 

The Prince also always had an ambition for forwarding 
all schemes which should tend to' promote science and art, 
improve the condition of the humbler classes, and advance 
the cause of education. It was largely through his exer- 
tions that the South Kensington Museum, and similar free 
exhibitions and schools of art, were provided for the people. 
The English appreciated him as a true man, the queen loved 
him as a faithful and devoted husband, and it was her desire 
that this monument should be a national memento, as well 
as a work of great artistic beauty, to commemorate a blame- 
less life, as worthy of imitation as great military deeds. 
And so here rises to-day the costliest and most elegant 
monumental structure of modern times, erected by the 
English people to a German prince. 

The foundation for this splendid monument to rest upon 
is a lofty and square pyramid of handsomely chiselled gran- 
ite steps, the length being nearly two hundred feet each 
side. The landings and platform of this grand staircase 
are paved with stone of various colors, taken from different 
quarries in England. After ascending this splendid flight 
of steps, the visitor arrives at the grand platform, laid in 
colored stone, as above described. His further progress is 
stopped by a massive and elegantly wrought bronzed or gilt 
railing, which surrounds other steps leading to the imme- 
diate base of the monument. 

At the angles of the upper square, formed by the bronzed 
railing, as at the four corners of this pyramid of steps, are 
four remarkable and elegant groups of statuary, carved 



SUPEEB STATUARY. 113 

from that hard Italian marble known as " campanella," 
from the bell-like sound it emits when struck. Each of 
these groups is upon a huge pedestal, and weighs from 
twenty-five to thirty tons. They are colossal figures, alle- 
gorically representing the four quarters of the globe. That 
known as Europe is the work of Patrick McDowell, R. A., 
and consists of five female figures. Europe is represented 
by a female figure seated upon a bull; she wears a crown, and 
bears the sceptre in one hand and globe in the other. She 
is surrounded by four other female figures, in sitting pos- 
tures. The figure of England is easily recognized, with the 
waves beating up against the base of the rock upon which 
she sits, bearing in her right hand a trident, and at her left 
the shield with the blended crosses of St. George and St. 
Andrew, her sculptured brow and features wearing an im- 
press of conscious power and noble dignity. Italy sits on 
a broken column, with head slightly raised and hand up- 
lifted, while the lyre and pallet at her feet are symbolical 
of music and painting, — a classical and beautiful figure. 
France is represented as a military power, a figure of de- 
termined mien, the right hand resting upon the hilt of a 
sword, while the left grasps the wreath of laurel. Germany 
is represented by an allegorical figure with studious and 
thoughtful brow, as she sits with open volume upon her 
knees. 

Round this beautiful group of statuary in all its fair pro- 
portions I walked, and then turned to one of an entirely 
different character, but strikingly effective, — that of Asia, 
at another angle of the square. This is also typified by five 
human figures and an animal. Upon the back of an admi- 
rably sculptured kneeling elephant, apparently just about to 
rise, is seated an exceedingly beautiful semi-nude figure of 
an Asiatic woman, in the act of removing her veil. By the 
side of the elephant, with one hand resting upon him, 
stands a Persian, with calm, thoughtful brow, long beard, 
high, conical cap, graceful, drooping robe, and shawl-twined 



114 EFFECTIVE GROUPS. 

waist, the fringe and pattern all finely wrought by the 
artist's chisel, a pen in the fingers of one hand, and writing- 
case by his side. Then we have a sculptured representation 
of a seated Chinaman bearing in his arms a vase, while 
another specimen of that handiwork is by his side. Beyond 
him standg the Indian warrior, with his shield, cimeter, 
and barbaric weapons and costume, while near the Persian 
figure sits an Arab, true son of the desert, leaning against 
a camel-saddle as if just dismounted. The draperies in this 
group, which, as may be imagined, contribute largely to the 
effectiveness of the figures, have been admirably managed, 
especially in the female figure throwing aside the veil ; and 
the costumes of the Arab merchant and Persian are very 
gracefully disposed. The sculptor, John Henry Foley, has 
achieved an ease and grace in grouping his work, and in 
the management of fine, continuous outline, that charm the 
eye of the spectator at almost any point from which the 
group is viewed. 

Next comes Africa, wrought by William Theed. This 
also is a strikingly effective group, and executed with won- 
derful attention to details. A kneeling camel, fully capar- 
isoned with barbaric harness, — a faithfully correct repre- 
sentation of the animal, — bears upon his back an Egyptian 
princess, with necklace, head-dress, and sceptre, Egyptian 
in fashion ; her right hand rests upon a naked Nubian, who 
stands, staff in hand, by her side, and his hand resting upon 
a half sand-covered ancient monument. Upon the other 
side is seated an admirably sculptured figure of an old 
Moorish merchant of the Barbary States ; his striped 
robe, bale of goods, wreathed turban, pipe, and the cime- 
ter at his feet, all indicating the Moorish trader. To the 
rear stands, leaning upon his bow, a negro, with the 
shackles of slavery broken at. his feet, listening to instruc- 
tion from the genius of civilization. 

Next comes the group typifying our own country, 
America. This is represented by what I consider to be the 



STATUE GROUP OF AMERICA. 115 

finest conception, if not the best executed, of the four 
groups, and have since learned this opinion was not entirely 
influenced by national pride, as it is also held by many 
well-informed English critics. 

The group is exceedingly bold, vigorous, and full of life, 
aptly characterizing the progress, vigor, and power of our 
nation. The principal figure is that of a female representing 
the New World, seated upon the back of a buffalo rushing 
through the long grass of the prairie ; her brow is grand, 
her gaze forward ; in her right hand she bears a spear, and 
upon her left arm hangs a shield, upon which is emblazoned 
the eagle of America, the beaver of Canada, and other 
emblems. Upon one side of the buffalo, with hand out- 
stretched as if directing his course, stands the female figure 
representing the United States. A starry baldric extends 
from right shoulder to waist, and an eagle's plume is thrust 
in the band about her brow, upon the front of which is a 
star, and another blazes at the point of her sceptre. Upon 
the other side stands, with face turned towards tlie United 
States, Canada, — a figure in furs and in a head-dress of 
leaves ; and at her feet are sculptured ears of wheat and a 
pair of snow-shoes, while at the feet of the United States 
is seen the almost emptied Indian quiver, and, disturbed by 
the tramp of the buffalo, the figure of a rattlesnake is steal- 
ing awaj' through the long grass. 

A seated figure with head-dress of feathers and carved 
staff, feather belt, and panther-skin robe, is designed to rep- 
resent Mexico. South America is represented by an ele- 
gantlj' executed figure, a sort of cross between a ranchero 
and prairie hunter. His broad sombrero, carbine, lariat, and 
Mexican costume, however, show him to be designed by the 
artist for the half-breed Indian and Spaniard of farther South, 
still further indicated by the cattle-horn and South American 
lily at his feet. 

All the figures in this group seem instinct with life, the 
expression of the faces is superbly rendered, and the spec- 



116 ART AND POETET. 

tator feels that lie is in the presence of a creation of real 
genius as he looks upon it. 

After enjoying these wondrous groups of sculpture 
which have arrested our attention, we turn once more to the 
monument. Inside the ornamental rail, from the top of the 
pyramid of steps or grand platform to which we have as- 
cended, rises a second or lesser flight, and upon this rests 
the podium of the monument, or sort of projecting base, 
eleven feet in height. The upper and lower edges of the 
podium are of granite, the intermediate portion of it being 
of marble ; 'upon it, running round on all four sides, are 
sculptured, in alto-rilievo, a series of historical groups of 
the most eminent painters, sculptors, architects, and schol- 
ars of ancient and modern times. They are one hundred 
and sixty-nine in number, of life-size, and the four sides of 
the base are devoted severally to Painting, Sculpture, Archi- 
tecture, Poetry and Music. 

Here, for instance, on the eastern front, sits the figure of 
Raphael, gazing thoughtfully into a sketch-book ; leaning 
upon one side of his chair is Michael Angelo ; upon the 
other stands Leonardo da Vinci. Titian, in long robe, 
stands, palette in hand, near to Paul Veronese, who fondles 
a favorite greyhound ; while the kneeling figures of Fra 
Angelico and others make up the group in that vicinity. 
Another contains the central figure of Rubens ; around him 
are gathered Rembrandt, Holbein, Hogarth, Dtirer, and 
others ; and a third group shows Murillo, Poussin, David, 
Claude, &c. 

The south front rilievos are beautiful. The central seated 
figure of blind, old Homer bows his head down to the lyre 
in his hands ; at his feet on one side sits Dante, looking up 
as to its magic strains ; on the other, Shakspeare, with hand 
to thoughtful brow, seems weaving pleasing fancies or won- 
drous thought. Milton stands by in musing attitude ; and 
old Chaucer, father of English poetry, rests, chin on hand, 
in quiet attention. At the right and left stand Goethe, Haa- 



PRODIGALITY OF DECORATION". 117 

del, Virgil, Cervantes, and Moli^re. Besides this group on 
the south part are others, embracing Beethoven, Ilaydn, 
Mozart, Auber, Rossini, Mendelssohn, Weber, and others. 

On the north front are the figures of the great architects 
of the world, the sculptors going as far back as 3090 b. c, 
and presenting Cheops, the builder of the largest of the 
Pyramids, at Gizeh, and Hiram of Tyre, and coming down 
gradually to the Gi'ecian and Roman architects, and finally 
to luigo Jones, Sir Christopher Wren, and Sir Charles Bar- 
ry, the architect of the Houses of Parliament. The north 
side gives us the sculptors Phidias, Praxiteles, Cellini, 
Canova, Thorwaldsen, Flaxman, and many others of both 
ancient and modern renown. 

Above, and rising from this richly ornamented podium, 
towers the lofty, gorgeously ornamented Gothic monument, 
to the height of one hundred and eighty feet from the 
ground. Upon the four angles of this podium I have been 
describing are four more groups of statuary in marble, rep- 
resenting the industrial arts of Manufacturing, Agriculture, 
Engineering, and Commerce. 

These groups are also beautiful in conception, and I give 
a description in order that these details may convey, to the 
American reader, some idea of the splendor of this remark- 
able monument. Engineering is represented by a female 
figure with one band resting upon a piece of machinery ; in 
front of her is another figure, with compasses in hand, intent 
upon a plan ; then, near by, kneels another, bearing a cog- 
wheel in her hand, near whom is seated a sculptured repre- 
sentation of a navvy or English engineering laborer, while 
near about are scattered sculptured indications of the engi- 
neer's art. 

In the group representing Agriculture we have the figure 
of Agriculture crowned with a wreath of maize, directing 
the farmer at his plough, while beside her sits a female with 
lap full of corn, representing the rich gifts of the earth to 
man, and near by stands the figure of a shepherd boy in his 
simple costume, with his sheep grouped about him. 



118 ELABORATION OF AET. 

Commerce is represented by a female holding a cornu- 
copia, and extending her hand to a youth bearing the 
scales, a ledger, and purse, emblems of mercantile trade ; 
two other seated figures, one representing an Eastern mer- 
chant with a box of Oriental jewels, and another with corn, 
the staif of life, complete this group. 

The group representing Manufactures is another admirably 
executed one in all its details. The most prominent i-epre- 
sents the genius of manufacture holding an hour-glass in 
one hand, while with the other she points to the beehive, 
emblem of industry. On one side of her stands a smith or 
machinist, and on the other a cloth-manufacturer or weaver, 
and a potter. These workmen are surrounded by articles 
of their manufacture, all faithfully wrought in marble by the 
sculptor. 

We now come to the^ pedestal upon which the statue of 
Prince Albert is seated. This is beneath a magnificent 
Gotliic canopy, or, as some readers will better understand 
it, in the open space of the monument proper, which reminds 
one of an immense and magnificent Gothic spire set upon 
a pedestal ; the open space being what in a New England 
spire would be called the belfry. The roof or vault of this 
open space above the head of the statue is of elegant blue 
mosaic, on which is inlaid Prince Albert's coat-of-arms. 

Notwithstanding the many bronze statues already men- 
tioned, there are numerous others. This open part of the 
spire, or monument, is formed by four clusters of pillars, and 
at the angles of each of these columns, above the groups of 
statuarj^ last desci'ibed, are eight more bronze statues, four 
of them seven and a half feet, and four eight feet four in 
height, representing Astronomy, with head bound with a 
fillet of stars, and holding a globe ; Philosophy, with finger 
pointing to her open book ; Medicine, with cup in hand, and 
the emblematical serpent at her side ; Chemistry, retort in 
hand ; Khetoric, with thoughtful brow, perusing a scroll ; 
Geometry, with pair of compasses, and tablet covered 



A COSTLY TRIBUTE. 119 

with geometric figures ; Physiology, with an infant on her 
left arm, while her right hand points to the microscope ; and 
lastly, Geology, a figure with pick in hand, that has un- 
earthed metallic ores and the remains of a pre-Adamite 
period. 

And yet this is not all ; for above the canopy in what 
might be termed the ornamental steeple of the spire, in 
niches, are eight other statues, each eight feet in height, 
viz. : Faith, with cross and chalice ; Hope, with her anchor ; 
Charity, bearing a burning heart ; Humility, bearing a lighted 
taper ; Fortitude, a warlike figure, with mace and shield ; 
Temperance, bearing a bridle ; Justice, with sword and 
scales ; Prudence, with a serpent. Above these are eight 
figures of angels, also of gilt bronze, clustered round the 
base of the cross which crowns this most wonderful and 
elaborate monument. 

The dedicatory inscription reads thus : 

QUEEN VICTORIA AND THE PEOPLE, 

TO THE MEMORY OF ALBERT, PRINCE CONSORT, 

AS A TRIBUTE OF GRATITUDE 

FOR A LIFE DEVOTED TO THE PUBLIC GOOD. 

I should hardly be considered an American chronicler did 
I not finish this description with the cost of the work, which 
is stated to have been £120,000 sterling, of which £50,000 
was contributed by Parliament, about an equal amount by 
private subscriptions, and the remainder by the Queen 
herself. 

This somewhat minute description is made from notes of 
personal observation and inquiry, and because the monument 
was one of the newest and most attractive wonders of the 
great metropolis at the time of the autlior's last visit, and 
one that he had not previously seen described in detail. 



120 



EOME. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Returning home after a first visit over the ocean without 
having- seen the Eternal City, is like the omission of the 
grandest chapter of a great book, a famous dish at a feast, 
the aroma of which reaches your nostrils just as you are 
leaving the board, the one more addition to his possessions 
which the capitalist covets to make him sleep secure, the 
one campaign which in results it seems would hav^e over- 
shadowed all the rest. You are enthusiastic to your friends 
about York Minster, but are silent when questioned of St. 
Peter's ; you have stood on the battlefield of Waterloo, but 
have not walked over the pathway trodden by Julius Caesar 
and Pompey ; you have shuddered at the cruel dungeons 
contrived by the Council of Ten in Venice, but what are 
they to the pit in which Jugxirtha was starved, and from 
which Peter was delivered by the angel. You may talk of 
the Cathedral of Milan, the glories of the Alps, the castles 
of the Rhine, but have you ever stood in the arena of the 
Colosseum, that one great monument which rises in the 
mind's eye and in imagination's vision whenever Rome is 
mentioned ? 

Bright, enjoyable, and interesting as have been our inter- 
views with history, face to face with the inementos of the 
past, if we have not seen old Rome, it seems to have been 
but the modern past and not that classic past which tinges 
our literature, was familiar to us in youth, and joins so 
closely upon mythological story as to possess an indescrib- 
able charm to the scholar, a world of romantic interest to 
the poet, and an inexhaustible field for the student. 

And yet Rome itself to the hungry traveller must appear 
but modern, as he contemplates the Sphynx, the Egyptian 



THE CITY OF OUR DREAMS. 121 

pyramids, aad those ancient monuments along the brown 
flood of the Nile, monuments that had fallen to decay 

" Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled." 

But Rome ! Rome — in our earliest days, it was common in 
school-boys' mouths. The speeches that had their birth in 
the Roman Forum were in our youth piped in shrill voices 
from the platform of the country school-house ; the deeds of 
Roman generals recalled by modern captains, the commen- 
taries of one of her greatest emperors conned with care by 
modern monarchs, and Gaul's greatest soldier, who shook 
all Europe with the thunder of his tread, proudly claimed 
himself to be the modern prototype of him who raised Rome 
to its highest pinnacle of military power and greatness, to 
be the acknowledged mistress of the world. 

Rome ! The field has been ploughed by every tourist ; it 
has been turned, delved, and re-turned by every antiquary ; 
it has been despoiled of its treasures by ancient vandals and 
modern virtuosos and curiosity hunters ; poets and senti- 
mentalists have made every foot of its soil familiar ; paint- 
ers and sculptors have produced and reproduced every 
wondrous picture or glorious creation of the sculptor's art 
till they greet us in the window of the cheapest print-shop, 
or claim our pity in vile plaster or the ornamentation of 
household utensils. 

The most wondrous treasures of European museums are 
spoils from her very ruins. The " Sleeping Faun " at 
Munich, that was hui'led down from the tomb of Hadrian ; 
the "Dancing Faun" at Florence; the " Farnese Hercu- 
les," that stands leaning on his club and is a model of 
mighty strength, now in the museum at Naples ; the " Venus 
do Medici," the exquisite symmetry and grace of which have 
made it the standard of excellence for the female form ; 
statues, busts, marbles, vases, fragments of the temples, 
altars, and tombs, are but the splinters of the very bones of 
the once mighty queen city of the world. 



122 FIBST SENSATIONS. 

Then the domestic life, the implements, manners and cus- 
toms, amusements, games, and occupations of ancient Eome 
have been rendered familiar to us as those of our own 
ancestors, thanks to poets, historians, and artists, who never 
tire of going over the prolific field that still yields fruit, 
and which seems to possess equal interest to each new gen- 
eration that comes upon the stage of life. 

1 had read much of the sensations of travellers on ap- 
proaching Rome in their rides over the Campagna, the deso- 
late and pestilential plain that surrounds it, the vast expanse 
out upon which the great city overflowed itself, and which 
was once the dwelling-place of senators and nobles, or was 
the site of old Etrurian towns that had risen to their prime, 
declined, and sunk into decay, ere Rome had risen to be an 
empire. I had read so much of the approach over this deso- 
late plain, that I was getting myself prepared for it some- 
what in the manner that visitors to Niagara Falls do who 
have read the romantic travellers' tales of the roar of the 
cataract being heard ten miles away, and who are continually 
putting their heads from the windows of the railway car- 
riage to listen as they approach that locality, and have their 
faith in human veracity so rudely shaken by finding the very 
village of Niagara Falls, whose casements they expected to 
find rattling with a thunderous concussion, as quiet as a New 
England village of a Sunday morning. 

Travellers have told how, when speeding over the Cam- 
pagna at early morn, they have beheld through the then 
dissolving mist the great dome of St. Peter's suddenly lift 
its swelling proportions upon the line of the horizon, or 
gleaming in the ruddy rays of the setting sun like a huge 
balloon just ready to rise into the clouds ; and that on the 
edge of the Campagna on one side rose the hills and ruins, 
all that is left of old Rome, and on the other the spires and 
churches of modern Rome ; the great Capitol between an 
apt dividing line separating the papal church and the pagan 
palace, the home of the popes and the city of the Csesars. 



REALITY VS. ROMANCE. 123 

All this poetic approach through the desolate Campagna, 
with here and there the ruin of a crumbling and forgotten 
palace, or villa, and the event of the postilion stopping his 
horses and pointing towards the distant city with its sharp 
outlines against tlie clear Italian sky, as he shouted " Ecco 
Roma " to tlie wearied and expectant traveller, was lost 
upon me, who was whirled into a modern railway station 
amid smoke, noise, dust, and confusion, and packed off in a 
very modern-looking omnibus for the Hotel Constanzzi. 

We rattle through what seems to be the outskirts of an 
Italian city, past what appears to be an abandoned burned 
district — old Roman ruins — into an Italian city, modern 
Home, with tall, yellow-washed looking houses, with cobblers, 
green-grocers, and fruiterers, in little cavern-like holes of 
stores in the lower story, through a street with high walls 
that encircle gardens, turn in beneath an archway and into 
the grand courtyard of a modern Italian hotel, where we 
were greeted in tolerable English and better French, and 
found ourselves Avelcome to Rome. 

However much of poetry or romance there may be in 
man's nature, it succumbs at once to the pleadings of 
hunger, and, next to the pleasure of appeasing that, is the 
comfort of a good bath, a luxury which the ancient Romans 
thoroughly understood, and to them we owe to-day the 
enjoyment of the purest and best water in Italy, a lux.ury 
indeed to us Americans, who have turned with disgust from 
the brackish beverage of Venice, or the lime-rock-charged 
purgative of Paris. 

What sight shall we go to see first ? We turn in the 
guide-book, first to churches. A most appalling list spreads 
out upon the pages of the volume ; a friend tells us there 
are three hundred and sixty-five of them, one for every day 
of the year. We take up Murray's Guide-Book of Rome ; 
it is a formidable volume of four hundred and eighty pages ; 
and even condensed Baedeker gives Rome three hundred 
and seventy pages. The enthusiastic visitor who comes for 



124 SIGHT-SEEING IN EOME. 

a two or three weeks' visit to the Eternal City is in despair 
at the prospect before him, knowing that the bare impres- 
sions and mere taste that he shall get in that brief period 
will but provoke a fiercer appetite, which would require a 
three months' instead of a three weeks' visit to appease. 

But, like all Americans who have too much to accom- 
plish in too brief a period, we set about the best method 
of doing it, and call in an excellent and expert valet de place, 
who thoroughly knows old Rome, and who had historical 
knowledge, doubtless learned in his occupation as guide, at 
his tongue's end, and was correct, too, as we found by fre- 
quent tests. To Antonio Amadio, guide, we communicate 
our wishes, and he immediately plans or submits a plan, for 
he has had to do it a hundred times for American travellers, 
for sight-seeing for one, two, or twenty days, as we may 
please to order ; and now whither shall we go first ? To 
the Colosseum, St. Peter's, Palace of the Caesars, Catacombs, 
Vatican? There is such an emba?'ras de^richesses that we 
are glad that the proposition is made to see a few sights 
well, and to commence with St. Peter's, which meets with 
general approbation. 

Placed in our open barouche, we roll out of the courtyard 
of the hotel, and down past our first sight in Eome, which 
was a fountain on the Piazza Barberini. Four dolphins with 
upturned tails held a big sea-shell, in which was seated a 
Triton who was blowing upwards, from a horn-shaped shell, 
a slender stream of water. We wind through narrow streets, 
with tall buildings and cavernous shops, where fruit, tin, and 
copper ware, garlic, and cheap Italian merchandise are 
vended, and at the doors of some of which an unappetizing 
compound is being fried in hot grease ; meet occasionally a 
sandalled friar, robed either in brown or black or gray, ac- 
cording to the uniform of the order with which he is con- 
nected ; we pass students in uniform of cloak or colored 
gown or shovel hat, and now and then a pair of Italian 
soldiers, whom the monks call devil's children. We soon 



TOMB OF HADRIAN. 125 

whirl into more of an open space, and a great circular 
structure greets our gaze, which we at once welcome as an 
old acquaintance with whose counterfeit presentment we 
have long been familiar, — the Castle of St. Angelo, or, to 
speak more correctly, the Tomb of Hadrian. 

Before us rises this great cylindrical monument surmounted 
with the bronze figure of the archangel Michael, with hia 
flaming sword, in memory of one of those pretended miracles 
which the priests of the Church of Komo have worked so 
liberally, and have erected monuments and painted pictures 
of so plentifully all over Europe, that it seems as if tlie 
Church desired, as perhaps it did, to give the impression that 
miracles were an evcry-day affair with them, and no particu- 
lar difficulty was to be encountered in performing them. 

But we are about to cross the Tiber, and we do cross it 
over the bridge supported by the five arches raised by the 
Emperor Hadrian in the year 136 to connect his tomb with 
the then greater part of the city on the other side of the 
river. Ten great statues, eleven feet high, of angels, are 
on either side, and the entrance to it guarded by statues 
of Peter and Paul. But the castle or tomb itself is now 
simply a huge cylinder of travertine, (it is well you should 
know that travertine, which the guide-books mention so 
frequently, is a species of white concretionary limestone 
abundant in Italy, and which was freely used by the Romans 
for building purposes,) the travertine from which the splen- 
did marble sheathing of Hadrian's time has been stripped. 
A huge cylinder, resting upon a square base or support — 
yes, huge, for this great square block upon which the big 
stone bandbox rested had a frontage of two hundred and 
forty-seven feet, and the circumference of this big mausoleum 
is nine hundred and eighty-seven feet. Think over these 
dimensions as they are now, and what a grand building is 
this, even in its despoiled condition, simply a round stone 
structure with an ornamental band like the architectural 
base of a coronet near its summit, from which rises a smaller 



126 A MAGNIFICENT MAUSOLEUM. 

structure fronting towards the bridge, bearing a clock, and 
in turn surmounted by the modern bronze statue of the 
angel before mentioned. The tomb of Hadrian undoubtedly 
owes its preservation to this day to its cylindrical form, 
rendering it more able to resist both the assaults of time and 
vandalism of men. 

As it now is, it is but the mere suggestion of what it 
must have been in its prime as the. magnificent tomb of the 
emperors, for it held the imperial dust of Hadrian, Antoni- 
nus, Marcus Aurelius, Commodus, Caracalla, and many 
others, and was, if we may judge from descriptions handed 
down to us, a mausoleum worthy of a line of monarchs. In 
its prime the rough travertine was sheathed in Parian 
marble, the great square base was intersected with the Doric 
marble pillars, between which were marble tablets for epi- 
taphs ; then came the great circular central tower, brilliant 
in white marble, and elegant with fluted Ionic columns. 
Above this rose another story, surrounded by Corinthian 
columns, between which were the choicest works of statuary 
from the sculptor's chisel ; and on the I'oof were grand sculp- 
tures of men and horses. A magnificent prominent monu- 
ment, which has doubtless successfully performed the office 
its projector had in view, — the handing of his name down 
to posterity. 

But how vain man's efforts against the march of time 1 
Three centuries swept past, and the tramp of the soldier, 
and thunder of the legions, and braying of the trumpet, 
shook the very dust of the old emperors in their funeral 
urns, as one of their more modern successors turned it into 
a fortress, and Goth, Greek, and Roman have held it ; its 
splendid statues have been hurled down upon invading 
forces, its sheathing of rich marble torn away for new mon- 
uments or modern Christian churches ; even the porphyry 
sarcophagus that held the ashes of a pagan emperor, re- 
moved by a modern Roman pontiff (Innocent II.) for his 
own tomb, and naught of that remains now but a mere 



A WRECK OP THE PAST. 127 

fragment, which, after having served as tomb for another 
pontiff, Otho II., for seven centuries, is now the baptismal 
font at St. Peter's, A history indeed for the casket that 
was prepared for Hadrian's remains, and which has held 
pagan and pope through so many centuries, that its last 
remaining fragment should now be the receptacle of the 
element for Christian baptism ! The sepulchral inscribed 
marbles were cut up to decorate a Christian church as late 
*as the sixteenth century, and the great monument of kings 
and emperors has been reduced by sieges, spoliations, van- 
dalism, and time to a mighty wreck of its former self, and, 
like many ruins of old Rome, grand even as a wreck. 

We may stop at the entrance, where some of the soldiers 
who now occupy it as barracks are unpacking a wagon-load 
of round, black-looking bread, and, if we have a permit, 
look in and see what little is to be seen. 

A great passage between the enormously thick walls 
winds round between them, and by gentle ascent carries 
you to the summit, or to the great chamber that Hadrian 
prepared for his last resting-place. This is in the centre of 
the building, and the niche occupied by his sepulchral urn 
and those of his successors is pointed out to you. You are 
surprised at the nicety of the stone work here, its exact 
fitting, and the unmistakable evidences, from the bolt-holes 
in the work, that the walls of these now gloomy passages 
were once sheathed with the richest marbles. The history 
of this castle or tomb would in itself fill a volume, and make 
a record of fiendish barbarities which even the most cruel 
African cannibal can hardly rival. Here will you look into 
Benvenuto Cellini's cell, who was confined here in 1537, 
when the fortress was a state prison of the papal govern- 
ment, and in endeavoring to escape from which he broke 
his leg. 

Here it is the Cenci family were incarcerated, and the > 
celebrated Beatrice Cenci, whose terrible tortures for a whole 
year, in the vain effort to make her confess to a lie, and 



.•\ 



128 ST. petek's. 

whose murder by the papal authorities, is a story that even 
to this day, though nearly four centuries old, excites the 
liveliest indignation against those beings wearing human 
form, who acted more like cruel fiends from the lowest 
depths of Satan's kingdom. But here are the cells, niches 
quarried out of a mountain of rock ; and here, out of a 
pleasant sort of library-room, or a great ornamental hall, 
which appears as a repositorj'- of archives, is another, where 
a cardinal was strangled by order of Pope Pius IV. We- 
look into other cells midway up, and are shown great jars, 
which are said to have formerly held oil heated to throw 
down updn the heads of besiegers, but more probably held 
a store of that commodity and wine for the use of the be- 
sieged. But we tire of " man's inhumanity to man ; " we 
mount to the top, and have a magnificent sight of St. 
Peter's and the surrounding country, an extended and trans- 
porting view spi'ead out for miles on every side in the clear, 
beautiful Italian atmosphere. 

We resume our carriages and ride on, and in a short 
time enter between the points of the great extended arms, 
as it were, of St. Peter's, — the central point, the church 
of the head of the Roman Church, the wonder of archi- 
tecture upon which untold sums of gold and three cen- 
turies of labor have been lavished. A gigantic modern 
ecclesiastical monument, rich in works of modern sculpture 
and art, and beautified with those wrenched from old pagan 
temples that have rung with the tramp of Caesar's legions, 
or from altars that have been wreathed in the smoke of 
pagan sacrifices to the gods. 

We pause just inside the grand piazza, or great open 
space in front of the huge edifice, to try and get a proper 
idea of its vastness, which is almost impossible in a first 
visit. On each side of us extend from the church those 
well-known great semicircular porticos, or pavilions, so 
familiar to every one who has ever seen a picture of the 
building. These porticos, which join the front or fagade 



THE GRAND PAVILIONS. 129 

of the church, converge as they extend from it, and are 
each in the form of an immense sickle, the handle part being- 
next the church, and the two points the extremities, and 
between these two points we have just passed. 

We descended from onr carriages, and the longer we 
gazed upon the great work, the more its grandeur and 
beauty grew upon us. From the two points of the colon- 
nades, or sickles, to the base of the broad steps that lead 
up to the church is a distance of about a thousand feet, a 
distance you can hardly conceive to be so great until you 
pace it, and one you will hardly care to test by pacing, if the 
day be warm and cloudless. But this deception is the first 
surprise which the vast size of everything about you causes, 
but which you soon become accustomed to. 

The great porticos themselves, which at first seem a low 
row of pillars inclosing the area, you discover are eupported 
by pillars sixty-four feet high and twenty feet apart, there 
being two hundred and eighty-four of these pillars, and each 
portico being fifty-five feet wide. The top of these grand 
pavilions is crowned with an army of saints, for one hun- 
dred and sixty-two figures, each twelve feet in height, look 
down upon the spectator, and the widest breadth between 
these two great encircling arms of the church is five hun- 
di-ed and eighty-seven feet. It is a grand inclosure to 
screen the approach to the church from any surrounding 
objects that might serve to distract the view ; and the eye 
runs with delight over the graceful lines of beauty, the ele- 
gant pillars, the serried array of statues, the great facade 
of one of the grandest creations in architecture, and the 
most wonderful structure of modern times. 

In the centre of the great inclosure, and relieving it from 
the otherwise naked appearance it might possess, rises the 
tall red granite obelisk that formerly stood in the circus of 
Nero, where it was placed by the emperor Caligula. It was 
the only obelisk in old Rome that was never thrown down, 
and which, after fifteen hundred years, was removed from 
9 



130 THE GREAT OBELISK. 

the spot where pagan hands had reared it, now covered by 
a portion of St. Peter's Church, to its present position. Its 
removal was considered little else than a miracle, as the 
diflSculties to be overcome by scientific and engineering skill 
in raising it from its old pedestal and conveying it without 
injury to this spot seemed almost insurmountable. 

The great obelisk weighed about a million pounds ; and 
Pope Sixtus V. required the architect Fontana to move it 
safely to this square, and place it upright upon the founda- 
tion that had been prepared for it. The story has oft been 
told to old and young ; the anxiety of the architect in the 
great work which was to make or undo him quite ; the 
prayers and blessings of the church for the work ; and how 
nine hundred men, tugging at thirty-nine windlasses, at last 
raised from its foundations this monument of the bloodiest 
and most cruel of tyrants, till it swung clear of obstructions 
and in the air, and was afterwards slowly lowered down 
upon great rollers prepared for it, and bj^ their means rolled 
to this spot, to be raised to the foundation prepared for it. 
Here, forty-six windlasses, eight hundred men, and one hun- 
dred and fifty horses tugged at the ropes, and raised the huge 
mass into position ; and here it was that, as the story is 
told, just as the great obelisk was to have been placed upon 
its pedestal, the ropes, stretching by its great weight, pre- 
vented the accomplishment of the architect's plans, who had 
not calculated upon this, and the vast pillar remained in the 
air, while he knew not what to do to shorten the ropes, till 
a sailor in the crowd cried out, despite the edict that silence 
should be preserved and none should speak aloud, " Wet 
the ropes ! Wet the ropes ! " which was done, and the 
sl^rinking caused by their drenching enabled him to carry 
out his calculations successfully. 

But there it stands, a graceful granite needle, rising one 
hundred and thirty-two feet in height, and surrounded at its 
base by a double circle of granite posts. On either side 
the two handsome fountains, forty-three feet in height, throw 



THE VESTIBULE. 131 

their sparkling water-jets up thirty or forty feet into the 
air, to tumble back, in broad sheets, into granite basins ; 
and one is reminded of the plan, on a lesser scale, of the 
obelisk and fountains at the Place de la Concorde in Paris. 
It is something to think of that you look, as you gaze upon 
this obelisk, upon a shaft brought from Heliopolis by Calig- 
ula, in a ship described by Pliny as " nearly as long as the 
left side of the port of Ostia." 

But let us turn our attention to St. Peter's. Like most 
visitors who have advanced thus far into the square, I was 
disappointed by having the noble proportions of the huge 
dome cut off by the great facade of the building, Avhich is 
three hundred and fifty-seven feet long and one hundred 
and forty-four feet in height. Above this is a balustrade 
with statues of Christ and the Apostles, apparently of life- 
size, but which are actually eighteen feet in height. After 
ascending the broad flight of marble steps, we find ourselves 
in the vestibule, which is really a grand structure in itself, 
being four hundred and sixty-eight feet long, sixty-six feet 
high, and fifty feet wide. A fine view or vista is had by 
standing in its centre and looking either side of you, the 
view being terminated on one side by an equestrian statue 
of Constantino, and on the other by one of Charlemagne, 
neither of which struck me as remarkable pieces of sculp- 
ture. 

But there, in the walls, between the doors, among other 
inscriptions, is the Latin epitaph on Adrian L, who was 
pope from 112 to 795, by Charlemagne, in blank verse, the 
first few words of which, translated, read: 

THE FATHER OF THE CHURCH, THE ORNAMENT OF 
ROME, THE FAMOUS WRITER, THE BLESSED POPE, 
RESTS IN PEACE. GOD WAS HIS LIFE, LOVE 
WAS HIS LAW, CHRIST WAS HIS GLORY, &c. 

But we hardly pause to examine the great bronze central 
door, which belonged to the old church of 1431, with its 
bas-reliefs of saints and .martyrdoms, or the holy door that 



132 FIRST VIEW OF THE INTEEIOE. 

is opened but four times each hundred years, for the great 
loaded heavj'- leathern curtain is all that is between us and 
the interior of this majestic temple. This great leather- 
bound curtain, which hangs before the ever open door of the 
great cathedrals of Europe, is not always an agreeable ob- 
struction to pass, loaded as its edges often are with ac- 
cumulated dirt from its contact with thousands of greasy 
hands that have thrust it aside, and it is not, therefore, 
pleasant or agreeable to have it flap heavily back into your 
face, as it is likely to do if one follows too closely those 
who precede him. 

But we push the heavy screen aside, not without a quick- 
ened beat of the heart, and step within the wondrous tem- 
ple that it conceals, into an atmosphere that is ever its own, 
and into the midst of a wilderness of wondrous architecture 
that is fairly bewildering. 

From a glance at the polished marble pavement under 
foot, the eye at once glides away along the great central 
nave, a surpassingly grand vista, eighty-nine feet broad, 
and more than five hundred feet in length, and one hundred 
and fifty-two feet high. On each side, massive Corinthian 
pillars rise, pilasters crowned with elegant capitals, arches 
leading into lofty side-chapels, over which are recumbent 
angels, the great, vaulted semicircular roof, enriched with 
sunken panels, ornaments, sculptures, bas-reliefs, and mo- 
saics — a prodigality of decoration in every direction. 

But then, the vastness of the interior is what astonishes 
the visitor. Distant people appear dwarfed to the size of 
children. You go up to the fluting of a pillar, and find it 
to be a niche big enough for a life-size statue. You ap- 
proach the infantile cherubs that support the shell of holy 
water near the entrance, and find them to be children six 
feet in height, and begin then to educate the eye to the 
vastness of the scene before you, beautiful in all its harmo- 
nious proportions. Glancing down at the pavement, we find 
marked the comparative length of St. Peter's with other 



BENEATH THE GKEAT DOME. 133 

noted Christian churches. Thus, St. Peter's is six hundred 
and thirteen feet; St. Paul's, London, five hundred and 
twenty ; Milan Cathedral, four hundred and forty-three ; St. 
Sophia, three hundred and sixty. Another interesting 
record in the marble floor is a round slab of porphyry, 
where emperors stood when crowned by the Pope. 

Almost the first walk one takes, after the surprise and 
wonderment of his first eye-sweep of the nave is over, is 
down towards a row of faintly glittering lamps, that the 
visitor sees before him upon a circular balcony of marble, 
and which appear in the distance like a large wreath of yel- 
low roses. These lamps are in clusters of three, are one 
hundred and twelve in number, and are kept constantly 
burning. They surround the sanctum sanctorum of the 
great church — the tomb of St. Peter. The visitor finds 
on reaching them that the balustrade that holds them is 
placed above two flights of marble steps that lead down to 
the door of the sepulchre, in which you are required to be- 
lieve repose the mortal remains of the apostle, and before 
which, in papal robes and in the attitude of prayer, is a 
wonderfully executed marble statue of Pius VI. 

Beneath the great dome, you look up, and almost forget 
that it is a creation of man's art, or that there should be 
any desire to look up, any more than to bend one's gaze 
upon the sky which we know is ever above. Feet and 
inches seem to convey but a faint idea of the proportions 
of this grand pile. The height from the pavement on which 
I stood to the top of the gorgeouslj'' decorated dome, or 
base of the lantern or little cupola that surmounted the 
dome, was nearly twice as high as Bunker Hill Monument. 
The four great pillars that, you observe, support it are over 
two hundred and fifty feet in circumference, and the interior 
of this magnificent globe is one hundred and thirty-nine feet 
in circumference on the inside ; and we afterwards find that 
there is another entire cupola outside, as we ascend it, and 
that there are commodious stairways and rooms between 
the two domes. 



134 VAST PROPORTIONS. 

So while we stand, and calculate that four or five domes like 
Boston State-House might be put in here ; that two buildings 
like the Capitol at Washington could be piled one on top of 
the other between where we stand and the top of this great 
temple, we begin to appreciate its vastness. In the niches 
of the supporting pillars of the dome stand statues — life- 
size they look on approaching, but the guide-book records 
them as sixteen feet high. As the eye soars up again into 
this magnificent vault, with its recesses, arches, spandrels, 
and decorations, the gaze is arrested by the four medallions 
of the Evangelists, with their emblems, that appear from 
where you stand like smoothly executed paintings, but 
which, when you climb to them, are mosaics of pieces of 
colored stone big as your thumb, and the figures great 
staring giants. St. Luke, with a hand that would answer 
for a dinner-table, grasps a pen seven feet in length, and 
each letter of the mosaic inscription that runs round the 
base of the dome — fair-sized letters as seen from below — 
is in reality six feet high. These figures give a faint idea 
of the vastness of the proportions of St. Peter's ; but its 
architectural management is such that all appears to har- 
monize, and the great distance reduces the coarseness of 
these huge dimensions into proper proportions. 

Another object by which the visitor educates his eye is 
the baldachino, or canopy, that stands near the opening or 
descent to St. Peter's tomb. This canopy to the grand altar, 
which is directly over the tomb itself, appears but an ordi- 
nary pavilion under the centre of the great dome ; but it is 
nearly a hundred feet high ; and, with all your admiration 
at the wonders of St. Peter's, you cannot repress the wish 
that Urban VIII. had shown himself less a vandal and left 
the great plates of ancient bronze where they belonged, in 
the Pantheon, instead of stripping them off to melt down 
for the ornamental screen to this modern altar ; for he took 
nearly nine thousand pounds of the Roman bronze for this 
purpose from that pagan temple. In fact, go where you will 



KISSING THE TOE OF ST. PETEr's STATUE. 135 

in Rome, one will find that the finest of the old pagan tem- 
ples, erected to Jupiter or Mars, or other heathen deities, 
have been laid under contribution for modern Christian 
churches. The Ccdosseum appears to have been a quarry 
for modern palaces, and the Pantheon and Caracalla's Baths 
a mine of marble and sculpture for various popes whose 
brains have burned with desire of architectural improvement 
and decoration. 

After lingering round this wondrous ijoint d^appui beneath 
the dome, my gaze was attracted by another one of those 
world-renowned objects whose acquaintance we make in 
early youth in the story-books, and continually renew in 
travellers' letters, novelists' descriptions, and pictured rep- 
resentation, — the seated bronze figure of St. Peter, whose 
metal toe receives so many labial salutes as to require no 
chiropodist, but, rather, a protector against the constant 
attrition which wears away even the solid bronze. This is 
a seated life-size bronze figure in a chair of white marble ; 
a stiif and ungraceful statue, with one hand grasping the 
pontifical key, and the other upraised in the attitude of be- 
Ptowing a papal blessing, first two fingers extended, and 
thumb and last two closed. The bronze toe of the seated 
figure projects a few inches beyond the pedestal, and an 
examination of it revealed a smoothly-worn depression 
caused hj contact of innumerable lips of the faithful. 

While I was standing here, two or three gathered near, 
apparently waiting their turn after I should have finished 
what they might have considered my devotions. I there- 
fore stood aside, when first approached a woman leading a 
little child. She kissed the bronze toe, pressed her forehead 
against it a moment, and then held up the infant to apply 
its little lips. Then came a ragged, greasy-looking fellow, 
with red vest and what had once been a velveteen coat 
with metal buttons, but was now a dust-colored remnant. 
His coarse, wooden-soled shoes were stained with the dust 
of the Campagna, and his complexion tanned by the sun 



136 THE TEIBUXE. 

to the hue of darkened Eussia leather. He clasped the foot 
with both hands, kissed reverently, fumbled at a pocket, 
and took out an old rosary, and went to a side-chapel and 
knelt silently before an altar where a number of candles 
were burning. Then came a workman, apparently, who 
brushed the bronze toe with his sleeve before kissing ; and, 
finally, a gentlemanly-looking individual, clad in Parisian 
garments of latest style, approached, and, after wiping the 
point of the extended foot with great care with his per- 
fumed linen handkerchief, he too bent his lips to respectfully 
salute it. Thus I witnessed the customary salute from the 
different grades of visitors who make their pilgrimages 
thither. 

An attempt to describe St. Peter's in detail will hardly 
be expected from any traveller or writer of ordinary expe- 
rience. The great side-chapels which we visit are large 
enough for ordinary churches. On eveiy side the eye en- 
counters rich decorations, marbles, carvings, frescoing, and 
gilding. The monuments in St. Peter's are not of remarka- 
ble historical interest, being chiefly tributes to the popes, 
and none of them earlier than the sixteenth century. 

The Tribune, as it is called, at the extreme end of the 
nave beyond the dome, and beyond what is known as the 
choir in cathedrals, is as a wliole a florid and incongruous 
piece of architecture. At the base is a grand altar ; at 
each side, upon two great ornamental pedestals, stand two 
mitred figures, one with extended hand, the other reading 
from a book ; behind these are two others, whose extended 
right and left hands, apparently, hold or point to a large 
ornamental casket between and above their heads, in which 
you are told is inclosed the identical chair in which St. Peter 
and many of his successors sat, when oflSciating as head of 
the church. Above this, two cherubs support the inevitable 
tiara and keys, and above them is a glory of numerous 
angels and rays of golden light, the dove forming the centre 
and the surroundings being rich in gilding and frescoing. 



TOMBS AND MONUMENTS. 137 

Speaking of relics, of which every Romish cathedral, even 
the humblest, has some, it will be remembered that the four 
great relics at St. Peter's are the lance which is said to have 
been that with which the soldier pierced our Saviour's side ; 
the napkin pressed to his face when he was staggering under 
tlie weight of the cross, and which is said to have ever 
since retained the impression of his features ; a fragment 
of the true cross, and the head of St. Andrew. These 
relics are exhibited on Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and 
Easter Day, but from a balcony so high in the air that they 
cannot be distinguished. 

The papal monuments are to a certain extent of the same 
general character — rich and elegant in sculpture and exe- 
cution, but all representing the deceased pontiff, standing, 
reclining, or kneeling in his robes of the church, the inev- 
itable tiara and keys, the representations of angels, cherubs, 
or the virtues of Truth and Fortitude, allegorically treated, 
being prominent in all. 

In the first chapel we were interested (as all are who 
travel in Italy, and hear Michael Angelo's name mentioned 
so frequently in every church, convent, and public building) 
in the marble group of the Virgin with the body of the dead 
Saviour on her knees, as being one of his first works, exe- 
cuted when he was but twenty-four years of age. 

The monument to Clement XIII. by Canova, in the right 
transept, is one that will hold the visitor's attention — the 
figure of tliC Pope in marble ; kneeling, and on either side 
of him, a figure of Religion bearing a torch, and Death, 
with reversed torch, all beautifully executed. At the base 
of the monument, guarding the door of the vault, are two 
noble figures of lions, magnificent representations of the 
animal in marble, with strength and savage majesty faith- 
fully delineated in every line and feature. Another inter- 
esting monument is that of Innocent VIII., who was pope 
from 1484 to 1492. He is represented in marble, in a re- 
cumbent position upon his sarcophagus, and again above it 



138 MAEBLE MIRACLES OF A MIGHTY TEMPLE. 

in a sitting' posture, bestowing the papal blessing, while 
one hand holds the sacred lance above alluded to, which 
pierced the side of our Saviour. This tomb and that of 
Sixtus IV. are the only two that were replaced in the church 
after the destruction of the old one,- its predecessor: 

The tomb of Benedict XIV. is a fine one, showing his 
statue supported by statues of Science and Charit3' ; and 
the chapel of the Holy Sacrament contains a superb taberna- 
cle of lapis-lazuli and bronze, and the tomb of Sixtus IV., 
in bronze, elegantly ornamented with bas-reliefs. Here in 
this chapel, with nothing to mark his resting-place but a 
slab in the pavement, rest the ashes of Julius II., who, it 
will be found on consulting history, deserves the largest 
share of the credit of raising this magnificent edifice. 

The attention of American as well as English visitors is 
alike attracted to the monument to the last three members 
of the Stuart family, James the Third, Charles the Third, 
and Henry the Ninth. It is the work of Canova, and rep- 
resents a marble obelisk, with a marble mausoleum at its 
base, guarded by winged figures of genii, which the guide- 
book tells us received their stucco breeches in the time of 
Leo XII., because their nakedness was an offence to his 
ideas of modesty. Near here, in the chapel of the Baptis- 
tery, is what remains of the red porphyry vase which formed 
the cover or upturned bed of the tomb of the Emperor 
Otho II. It is twelve feet long, and, as before stated, was 
formerly the receptacle of Hadrian's ashes, but is now a 
baptismal font. 

My note-book has points of admiration for various other 
sculptures and wonders, made in my hours of wandering, 
all too brief, amid the marble miracles of this mighty tem- 
ple — pictures, statues, bas-reliefs, mosaics, sculptures, and 
marbles innumerable, that I have not space to mention, and 
could hardly do so intelligibly without giving a detailed de- 
scription of the building. An expert valet de place will 
point out rich yellow marble wainscotings from some of the 



HOAV TO VISIT ST. PETEr's. 139 

old pagan temples of Jupiter, or Venus, or Mars, columns 
of beauty said to have come from the Temple of Jerusalem, 
and other wonders, as you pass from point to point. 

In St. Peter's are confessionals, it is said, for every known 
language ; and there are in the church forty-six altars, two 
hundred and ninety windows, three hundred and ninety 
statues, and seven hundred and forty-eight columns. And 
this great church, we are told, stands over the vaults con- 
taining the mortal remains of " eight apostles, eleven fathers 
of the church, eleven founders of orders, and thirty-five 
canonized popes," while the very bronze columns which 
support the canopy of the great altar ai'e filled with the 
bones of martyrs, which were exhumed from the Vatican 
catacombs when they were swept aside to make a founda- 
tion for the present great church of St. Peter's. 

St. Peter's should not be visited hurriedly, or with a large 
party, who will rudely disturb with the clatter of tongues 
the hushed reverence which its grandeur and beauty impose 
upon you as you stand beneath its marvellous dome, feel 
dwarfed by the side of its huge pillars, and note the com- 
parative silence which seems to pervade the interior, no 
matter how many be present. One hasty visit, and you 
bring away a confused recollection of a lofty dome, fretted 
ceiling, long nave, a confusion of statues, pillars, and 
" apotheosis of popedom," as Frederika Bremer calls it. 
A quiet, leisurely saunter, with time to spare, and a revisit- 
ing again and again, is necessary to enable the mind fully 
to grasp and properly appreciate its grandeur as a great 
architectural wonder. 

The cost of the main building of St. Peter's, which was 
dedicated November 18, 1626, but may not be said to have 
been completed until Pius VI. built the sacristy in 1780, 
was over ten million pounds sterling; and the annual ex- 
pense now of keeping it in repair is about six thousand five 
hundred pounds, or over thirty-two thousand dollars — a 
bagatelle, wlien it is considered what some of our modern 



140 A VILLAGE IN THE AIR. 

American politicians expend in furnishing and keeping city- 
halls and custom-houses in repair. 

The floor or lower part of this great Christian temple 
having been " done " by the tourist, an ascent to the dome 
is the next wonder that awaits him. The ascent is not by 
means of stairs, but by a broad, paved, gently ascending, 
zigzag walk, up which a horse or mule might easily travel. 

On the walls on the side of the staircase are inscriptions 
recording the ascent of various monarchs and distinguished 
personages, the most recent being that of the Prince of 
Wales, who went up into the ball February 10, 1859. On 
our way up we stepped out upon the roof of the faQade, 
where stand the statues of our Saviour and the Apostles, 
which we find to be marble giants eighteen feet high. We 
look over the huge, breast-high balustrade down into the 
beautiful piazza that is spread out one hundred and forty- 
four feet below us, with its obelisk, fountain, and moving 
groups of visitors dwarfed by the distance ; we gaze 
around and observe the two cupolas, of one hundred feet in 
heiglit, which are on either side of the great dome which 
soars in its swelling majesty far, far above them three hundred 
feet further into the blue air ; and here also are five smaller 
domes which are above the great chapels ; then there are 
huts or habitations for custodians who have the care of the 
roof upon which you walk about in different passages, like, 
as it were, a series of streets in the air, and begin to get 
still newer ideas of the hugeness of St. Peter's as you step 
in and resume the ascent of the dome that towers above. 

Up, up, still up, till at last a gallery is reached which you 
step out into and look downwards, instinctively clutching 
the iron railing that protects, and look away down to the 
pavement as from the basket of a balloon. The people on 
the floor have lessened to Liliputians, the great, hundred- 
feet-high baldachino has shrunken to the size of a four- 
posted bedstead ; atop and behind the huge pillars is a wide 
alley-way in which workmen are walking. One is hung 
down, seated in a loop of rope, fastening a series of dec- 



A DIZZY PROMENADE. 141 

orations to points at the head of the flutings of the great 
piUars, and he makes progress from one to the other by 
giving a vigorous push with his foot and swinging out, like 
a spider on his. thread, ten or a dozen feet into the open 
space, and coming back in the next fluting. It fairly makes 
you giddy to look at him. 

But when you get up to the upper gallery, close to the 
swell of the dome, where the mosaic work, that appeared so 
smooth and elegant from below, is now as coarse and rough 
as ill-executed scene-painting, and can hardly read the let- 
ters that surround the rim, they are so big, and the look 
down calls for so steady a head that, though the strong 
iron rail comes up full breast-high, but the coolest of the 
party will make its circuit, — then we realize the magnitude 
and wonder of this work of human hands. It requires a 
steady head to walk around this railed passage-way, and 
the very steadiest of the steady to stand close to the rail 
and look down froni this height to the pavement, four hun- 
dred feet beneath. But the glories of the dome and lan- 
tern, their elegant decorations, ornamentations, and coloring, 
are around and about the astonished visitor, and, gaze which 
way he will, new wonders greet him. 

Back to the passage between outer and inner dome, and 
Tip we mount, and step out upon a little gallery, not visible 
from below, which we find is at the base of the ball, and 
from which a view of the surrounding country is had, as 
from a private-box seat in the top of a high mountain. 
Then comes an ascent into the ball, made by an almost per- 
pendicular stair, and through a space that can be passed by 
but one person at a time. Although I had the privilege of 
a five minutes' visit inside this great hollow globe, with 
thirteen other visitors, who, like myself, desired probably to 
say they had stood in the ball of St. Peter's, I am not pre- 
pared to say the experience was an agreeable one, and was 
glad to get down to the outer gallery, and enjoy the ex- 
tended view and pure atmosphere, before descending to 
terra firma again. 



142 THE PANTHEON. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Having seen the most magnificent of modern Christian tem- 
ples, I next bent my way to the most splendid of the pagan 
temples of old Rome — the Pantheon, that model of ancient 
architectural beauty which even now, with its perfect inte- 
rior, its simple grandeur and proportions, notwithstanding 
the vandal additions of various popes, who seemed to vie 
with each other in plundering pagan temples, or rendering 
the beautiful structures, which they could not rival or ap- 
proach, hideous by their additions or alterations, — even 
with the mangling that the Pantheon has received, it rises 
in my recollection as a thing of beauty that is a joy forever. 

The impression of its faultless beauty came over me as I 
stood in the centre of the perfect circle of this great temple 
to all the gods, — a rotunda one hundred and forty-two feet 
in diameter and one hundred and forty-three feet high. 
There are no windows, but a perfectly circular aperture in 
the top, of twenty-eight feet in diameter, admits a light 
that lights the whole, and through which the blue Italian 
sky and fleecy clouds are seen. Around on all sides are 
now Christian altars, and the great niches are vacant that 
once held marble figures of heathen deities ; the magnifi- 
cent bronze plates that sheathed the most perfect dome in 
the world are stripped away ; nay, even some of the stone 
and marble work is whitewashed or otherwise disfigured ; 
and yet you cannot stand upon the floor of this magnificent 
old temple to the gods, built twenty-seven years before 
Christ, without involuntary expressions of admiration at its 
perfect beauty of proportion. 

What must it have been in its prime, with its magnificent 
front, not as now sunken as modern Rome, or as successive 



A GLORIOUS PAGAN TEMPLE. 143 

modern Romes have heaped their soil up over the old city, 
till now you step doion into the Pantheon ; what must it 
have been eighteen centuries ag-o, when its magnificent por- 
tico, with its grand front of over one hundred feet, sup- 
ported by sixteen Corinthian pillars tliirty-six feet high, 
(which still remain,) was above the level of tlie street, and 
was approached by a flight of six marble steps, and the 
vestibule a beautiful vista of white marble pilasters, the 
pediment above was ornamented with glorious bas-reliefs, 
(you may sec the holes in which the bolts holding them 
were placed, to this day,) and the roof, sheathed with 
bronze, which Pope Ui'ban VIII. not only was vandal 
enough to strip off and melt down for bronze columns and 
cannon, but perpetuated the act, that there should be no 
mistake as to who the despoiler was, by recording it in a 
Latin inscription over one of the doorways ? Then he 
increased the outrage by adding two ugly bell-towers to 
the dome, — " asses' ears," they are very justly called ; — 
and another pope, Benedict XIV., who was pope from 1740 
to 1758, toi'c away beautiful marbles from the upper part 
of it to adorn buildings he was erecting. 

But despite all this, the grand and perfect beauty of the 
temple could not be destroyed, and we can imagine, stand- 
ing here upon what was once the elegant pavement of por- 
phyry and marble, how grandly the pagan altar reared its 
height beneath the then perfect vault of bronze, and the 
smoke of ascending sacrifice rose through the great opening 
direct to the nostrils of mythical Jove himself, and in these 
now empty niches, fifty feet above the pavement, there 
stood looking down upon priests and people the colossal 
sculptured figures of Jupiter, warlike Mars, and majestic 
Minerva, Apollo with bent bow, or with lyre in hand, and 
Vulcan pausing over his thunderbolts. The sides of the 
vast circle glittered with polished marbles and elegant 
carving ; the attic or roof gleamed with sculptured silver 
and bronze, and was upheld by caryatides of Syracusan 



144 VANDALISM. 

bronze. Statues to Rome's emperors and senators peopled 
niches at the entrance and in the porticos, and Marcus 
Agrippa's superb temple to the gods was one of the glories 
of old Rome. 

The ancient bronze doors remain, and the Corinthian pil- 
lars, of red granite, with marble capitals, roughened and 
blackened with the breath of eighteen centuries, will con- 
tinue to command attention, exact admiration, and remind 
the student of the architecture of classical times ; but all 
around the interior in the different recesses he will find the 
modern altars of the Roman Catholic church, with their 
florid and tawdry ornaments, tinsel and frippery, which illy 
accord with the ancient surroundings. The building is said 
to be a species of brick work, and was coated or veneered 
with marble, but the exterior coating was stripped off" by 
the spoilers of modern times. So also was plundered the 
sculptured silver on the interior of the roof by successive 
vandals. 

Rome built and raised her most costly and beautiful 
edifices from the spoil of plundered cities, and by the cap- 
tives brought by emperors " home to Rome, whose ransoms 
did the general coffers fill ; " and the law of compensation, 
or of retribution, was at last wrought upon herself, and by 
some of the very people from whom she had wrenched 
fathers, husbands, and brothers, treasures and spoils ; base 
barbarians, whom proud Rome once despised, ran riot 
through her streets, plundered and despoiled her temples, 
and only consented to leave Rome's supplicating ambassa- 
dors their lives on condition of their surrendering every- 
thing else. 

The approach to some of these splendid relics of ancient 
Rome takes the romance and poetry most thoroughly out 
of the tourist; and that to the Pantheon, through dirty 
streets, beggars, and hucksters, who follow and pester one 
to the very door of the temple, but illy prepares you for an 
admiration of its beauties, and too often, on departing, 



THE CAPITOLINE HILL. 145 

rudely destroys the sentiments which a contemplation of its 
interior has aroused. 

Where next ? 

To the Capitol ! The Hill of Kings, the very sanctum 
sanctorum of the Roman state, the scene of the birth of the 
most important events of Rome's history. There where her 
senators assembled and their laws were made, where, wind- 
ing up the Iiill, after his triumph through the city, came the 
victorious Roman general to receive the senate's thanks and 
conqueror's laurel wreath ; the site of Rome's fortress that 
our boyhood's story told us was saved from an invading foe 
by the cackling of scared geese, tho place where the Tarpe- 
ian rock reared its precipitous height, and the scene of Bru- 
tus's oration to the people after the murder of Julius Csesar. 

What a grand place is the Capitoline Hill in our imagi- 
nation, and what a magnificently big place we always 
thought it must be from its history, and the temples that 
were said to have stood upon it, and the scenes enacted 
there I Away back to the time of Romulus they tell us the 
gate of the fortress on the hill was opened by Tarpeia, and 
I went and stood on the spot a little above where the ruined 
arch of Severus is, as the place where the besieging soldiers, 
in obedience to the promise of the traitress, threw off for her, 
as a i-eward for her treason, as they had promised, " that 
which they wore on their left arms ; " not the coveted golden 
bracelet, but the heavy bronze and iron shield ; and, crushed 
beneath the weight of metal, she received fit reward for her 
perfidy. 

It must be confessed a powerful amount of imagination is 
required to rehabilitate this hill as antiquarian and historical 
authorities describe it. How they found room for so many 
buildings there puzzled me on looking at it, for either the 
ancient edifices must have been of circumscribed dimensions, 
or else the grand hill of the Capitol, the head of the empire, 
state, and republic, must be now sadly shorn of its ancient 
dimensions. 

10 



146 LEGENDS AND LOCALITIES. 

Here it was, away back in tlie time of Tarquinius Super- 
bus, B. c. 535, BO the legend runs, that the splendid temple 
of Jupiter Capitolinus was built on the rocky platform. It 
was two hundred Roman feet square, with pavement of 
mosaic, and gates of gilt bronze, and underneath it was kept 
that old bundle of palm-leaves known in the story as the 
Sibylline books. Tarquin's building is said to have stood 
two hundred years, and then came a more splendid one 
after its destruction, b. c. 83. This went down a. d. 69, and 
of course another was erected ; and on this hill Titus and Ves- 
pasian celebrated the fall of Jerusalem. But like all other 
of Rome's rich temples, that on the Capitoline Hill attracted 
the cupidity of vandals, who stripped it of its splendors a. d. 
455. On arriving at the disappointing little Capitoline Hill, 
it seemed to me there was so little space that I " overhauled 
my note-book," as Cap'n Cuttle would say, wondering how, 
besides the temple to Jupiter Capitolinus, there could have 
stood here, or on the adjacent height, so many points of 
intei-est as set down in history, namel}^ old Numa's Temple 
of Faith, Temple of Jupiter Tonans, Juno Moneta, Temple 
of Honor, temples of Mars and Venus ; and it was up here 
somewhere (I could not place the locality) where once was 
the fortress from which, during a siege, the Romans threw 
loaves of bread, so the story runs, down into the enemy's 
&amp to cheat them into the belief that they were abundantly 
supplied with provisions, while in reality they were perish- 
ing with hunger. 

All these old legends come up fresh in your mind, or a 
group of tourists talking with each other of what they have 
read and studied of old Rome, will recall them when visit- 
ing these historic spots. 

But our carriage stops at the foot of a broad flight of 
stairs known as " La Cordonnata," put here in 1536, but 
taken from the Temple of tlie Sun on the Quirinal. They 
mark, however, the sight of the ancient staircase that led 
to the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, and at the foot of 



THE SQTJAKE OF THE CAPITOL. 147 

which, marked by the spot where the end of these stairs 
touches at the left, Rienzi the tribune was killed. Near this 
staircase, through a little garden, we were shown two or 
three underground arches, which are said to be part of the 
lower portions of the celebrated temple to Capitoline Jove, 
to whom we have made such fiequent reference. 

Two great carved lions are at the foot of the broad stair- 
case, and at its summit we discover two ugly colossal 
marble figures, Castor and Pollux, standing by tlie side of 
their steeds. These two are transfers, having been brought 
here from the Ghetto and placed in this position, and at the 
top, along the edge of the platform, are other statues, which 
probably the guide-books tell of; I remember examining 
some carved armorial trophies called the trophies of Marius, 
and looking with some interest at a genuine old Roman 
mile-stone brought from the Appian Way. I then turned 
about and stood in the square of the Capitol of Rome, one 
of the historical spots in the world that every student longs 
to visit. 

Here it was, and a disappointment at last, looking like 
a very modern square ; the flight of steps on one side, and 
three somewhat modern and by no means remarkable-look- 
ing buildings on the other three. In the centre, however, 
stood the majestic and grand equestrian statue of Marcus 
Aurelius, with outstretched hand, in attitude of command, 
the most perfect statue of antiquity that has come down to 
us, being one of twenty-two bronze equestrian statues that 
existed in Rome in the fifth century. It formerly stood 
near the Arch of Severus, was removed in 1187 by Pope 
Clement III. to the front of the Lateran Church, and placed 
in this square by order of Paul III. in 1187. In the year 
966 a prefect of Rome who rebelled against Pope John 
XIII. was hung by his hair from this horse ; so the steed 
has a story if not a pedigree. The pedestal on which it 
stands was cut by Michael Angelo from a solid piece of 
cornice found in the Forum, It was also here, in this open 



148 THE WOLF OF THE CAPITOL. 

space, that Brutus spoke to the people after Caesar's murder ; 
here over this ground great Caesar walked. 

We crossed the square back to a corner near the right 
hand of the head of the staircase after ascending, and 
looked over what we were told was the Tarpeian Rock, an 
eminence looking down into a dirty alley, and giving one 
the impression that the rock must have been razeed, or the 
surface below have changed its character and been filled up 
since Manlius was hurled down there by the patricians, who 
envied his popularity as the friend of the people. All these 
statues, staircase, and buildings, being comparatively mod- 
ern, leave but little else than the hill itself to recall anj'- 
thing that was really as ancient Rome stood, and even the 
hill must have been shorn in size and changed in form since 
then. 

Upon the three sides of the sqtiare stand the Church of 
Ara Coeli, the Palace of the Senator, and the Palace of the 
Conservatori, containing a collection of some of the most in- 
teresting objects in Rome. Here we saw magnificent speci- 
mens of ancient Roman statuary, a group of a lion attacking 
a horse, found in the bed of the river Almo ; and what is said 
to be the only authentic statue of Julius Csesar. 

Here, also, is the famous bronze Wolf of the Capitol, a 
rough-looking representation, but it is interesting to look 
upon the figure referred to by Cicero. And that familiar 
statue, familiar from the thousands of copies that have been 
made of it, of a boy extracting a thorn from his foot is here, 
an act simple enough in itself, but represented in this statue 
with such wonderful fidelity as to command admiration even 
from the casual spectator. 

The Capitoline Museum, opposite to the Palace of the 
Conservatori, is rich in antique sculpture, Roman remains, 
and antiquities. Here is the famous mosaic, found in Ha- 
drian's Villa at Tivoli, which has been copied so often into 
ladies' mosaic breastpins, " Pliny's Doves," on which some 
doves are represented sitting upon the edge of a vase drink- 



THE CAPITOLINE MUSEUM. 149 

ing and pluming themselves. This mosaic is composed of 
quite minute bits of stone, one hundred and sixty different 
pieces having been counted to the square inch. 

In the same hall with this wonderful mosaic were some 
most interesting specimens of ancient sarcophagi, elegant 
in rich allegorical carving, a feast for the art-student. That 
known as the Prometheus Sarcophagus is thickly covered 
with carving, and is chiefly interesting as telling in sculpture 
the whole fable of Prometheus which may be readily traced 
out upon it. Prometheus is seen seated with the vessel 
of clay by his side from which he has formed his model of 
man, and around him are the different deities bestowing 
upon his creation their different gifts, while at one side are 
the representations of the four elements necessary for the 
formation and support of man, namely, Fire, repi'esented by 
a group round the forge of Vulcan ; Water, by a water god 
reclining on a sea-monster ; Earth, by a female figure with 
cornucopia of fruits ; and Air, by ^olus and flying chariots. 
Here, also, are the beautiful statues known as the Venus of 
the Capitol, Leda and the Swan, and Cupid and Psyche. 

The Venus of the Capitol, so called, is a very perfect and 
beautiful statue, and said to have been found walled up in 
a niche where it had evidently been hidden for protection ; 
it was placed in this museum by Pope Benedict in 1752, 
and is a Greek work ranking third in merit as a statue of 
the goddess, — those of Milo and Medicis being first and 
second, though this is a point of dispute, as many art critics 
consider this superior to the Medicean statue. To any lover 
of art, however, it is a wonderfully beautiful creation, and 
quite perfect, the only restorations that have been necessary 
being a part of a fin'ger on the right, and the first finger of 
the left hand. 

One of the most interesting portrait galleries in the world 
is the hall here known as the Hall of the Emperors, contain- 
ing nearly one hundred splendid busts of Roman emperors 
and their wives. 



150 HALL OF THE EMPERORS. 

This Hall of the Emperors is a curious study, as afford- 
ing- the student some idea of how near his imagination has 
approached reality with regard to the personal appear- 
ance of the various tyrants, brutes, gluttons, voluptuaries, 
and coarse conquerors who have iu succession ruled Rome 
in the past ; for the faithfulness of very many of these 
busts has been verified and their authenticity proved by vari- 
ous circumstances, such as their comparison with coins and 
medals, inscriptions, and the positions where they were dis- 
covered, and other proofs which leave but little doubt that 
a majority of them were portrait busts sculptured during 
the life of the persons they were designed to represent. 

In this hall of busts, or, in fact, in any one of the muse- 
ums of Eome, he who is at all interested in Roman history, 
in art or antiquity, and who for the first time finds himself 
surrounded with all these voiceless though speaking relics 
of the past, pointing out, corroborating, and emphasizing the 
history that he has studied and read, and who desires to tell 
what he sees to others who, less fortunate than himself, 
have not looked upon them, finds himself embarrassed, be- 
yond measure. Where to begin ? What is the most worthy 
of note ? To be sure and examine the great and noted works, 
— familiar as household words from frequent description, and 
not to omit the enjoyment of other records of Roman art and 
history that surround him, and that carry one back to the 
time of the Caesars, or the exciting scenes of the Roman 
Forum. Again, in the bare enumeration and comment upon 
what one sees here, we run the risk of appearing to repro- 
duce a guide-book. The author, therefore, mentions a few of 
the historic objects that more especially attracted his atten- 
tion, and they are described simply as specimens of this price- 
less collection of ancient art. 

The seated statue of Agrippina, daughter of Agrippa, and 
grandmother of Nero, in the middle of this hall, is sure to 
attract the attention from its beautiful simplicity of pose, 
its sad but majestic expression of countenance, and its 



POETEAIT BUSTS OF KOMe's EMPERORS. 151 

natural attitude, while the sad record of the ill-fated but 
noble-spirited lady gives additional interest to this marble 
representation, which those who have read of her can readily 
imagine to be a faithful portrait by the sculptor. 

A fine head is that of Poppea Sabina, second wife of 
Nci'o, and killed by that brute by a kick, in a fit of passion ; 
the head and neck are beautifully formed of white marble, 
and the plaits of hair are carried round the head ; and you 
are shown the remains of bronze pins which probably once 
held a bronze wreath or head-dress. 

Quite a curious figure was that of Lucilla, daughter of 
Marcus Aurelius, as showing the skill used in the manage- 
ment of different-colored marbles ; the drapery is so arranged 
as to appear like a striped robe of two different colors ; the 
face and neck of the figure are of white marble, but the hair, 
which is made to take off, of black. 

Here we see the bust of Septiraius Severus, he to whom 
the arch was erected, who built the great wall between 
England and Scotland, and died at York, a. d. 211. Next 
comes Caracalla, son of Septimius, who made his name cel- 
ebrated b}' the magnificent public baths that he commenced, 
that bear his name, and the ruins of which are to this day 
one of the wonders of Rome. Near by is a bust of Cara- 
calla's murderer, Macrinus, who held his ill-gotten power 
but a year, when he in turn was deposed and executed by 
Heliogabalus. 

We must not forget in the inspection of the marble por- 
traits of these emperors of bloody succession, that of their 
predecessor, Augustus, the first Roman emperor who was 
acknowledged the undisputed monarch of Rome by the 
victory of Actium, b. c. 30. Then here is Domitian, the 
last of the twelve Caesars, a cruel brute, who reigned eleven 
years, and was murdered in the Palace of the -Csesars, a. d. 
96 ; a fine bust of Trajan, whosd name with the general 
reader is inseparably connected with the most elegant and 
tasteful of all historic columns — Trajan's Column, erected 



152 SCULPTURED STORIES. 

in his honor by the senate and the Roman people in 114 ; 
and Hadrian, noted, as we know, for his architecture, circus, 
great mausoleum (Castle of St Angelo), and magnificent 
villa near Tivoli. 

Nero's bust ! It is unnecessary to recall the bloody 
deeds that will invest this bust with interest. The story of 
his brutal murder of his own mother, his licentiousness and 
cruelties, and the destruction of a great portion of Rome by 
fire under his bloody rule, are familiar to every schoolboy ; 
and though his senseless dust has forever mingled with the 
elements, it is perhaps a somewhat retributive justice that 
nearly every visitor pauses before the imperishable stone to 
trace out in the sculptured representation of the features 
those characteristics that placed him in the catalogue of the 
most cruel tyrants and bloodiest of men. Among others 
of the most noted busts are those of Titus, who conquered 
Jerusalem, Vespasian, Marcus Aurelius, and Diocletian. 

Besides the Prometheus Sarcophagus before referred to, 
there are several others equally interesting, some of which 
I can hardly pass without notice. One is known as that of 
the Vigna Amendola, found on the Via Appia. This has 
carved upon its front a fine representation of a battle 
between the Romans and the Gauls, with the general of the 
latter thrown from his horse, and in the act of stabbing 
himself, probably committing suicide at the mortification of 
defeat. Throughout the whole scene the representation is 
of a fierce fight between Gauls and Romans, and the story, 
as told by the sculptor, is that the victory which was won 
by the Romans was one dearly bought, for representations 
of slain Romans, as well as their enemies, are depicted ; and, 
in -the rush and throng of intermingling hosts, Gaul and 
Roman vie with each other in deeds of valor ; but Gallic 
prisoners in fetters, women and children in tears, and other 
indications, are of Roman conquest. It is thought to rep- 
resent a battle before Pisa, b. c. 225, where a Gallic chief 
killed himself as above described, and a Roman consul fell 



THE KNDTMION SARCOPHAGUS. 153 

in the fight, which latter act is also depicted among the 
figures of the group, 

A still more celebrated sarcophagus is that which was dis- 
covered underground by some farm laborers, and in which, 
on being opened, was found the celebrated Portland Vase 
now in the British Museum. The fine bas-reliefs upon this 
are illustrative of scenes in the history of Achilles. On one 
of the ends he is shown as discovered by Ulysses among the 
daughters of Lycomedes of Sycros, where he has revealed 
his sex by choosing the sword out of all the other orna- 
ments offered by Ulysses, which were for female use. Upon 
another side we find Ulysses again, and in the act of rousing 
Achilles to avenge the death of Patroclcs ; upon another, 
his departure ; and on the third, Priam at the feet of the 
great warrior entreating of him the dead body of Hector, 
and bringing a carload of gifts as ransom therefor. The 
ashes which were found in this sarcophagus were supposed 
to be those of Alexander Severus, who was killed, a. d. 235, 
and his mother, Julia Mammea. 

The Endymion Sarcophagus, which is in the Hall of the 
Faun, is another one of these remarkable monuments upon 
which mythological fable is depicted ; this was found under 
the high altar of the church of St. Eustace, in the time of 
Pope Clement XL, between 1700 and 1111. The front part 
of this is illustrated with the story of Endymion, who is 
represented rapt in slumber, and Diana, who is stepping 
from her chariot, is gazing admiringly upon him ; above is an 
allegorical figure, representing Sleep. At the left, Diana has 
re-entered her chariot, and the horses are springing fox-ward 
at the start ; a female figure, half shrouded by a cloud of 
night, looks upward at the departing goddess, and between 
the two groups is Mount Latmos, with sheep and goats, and 
an altar to the god Pan depicted upon it. The cover has 
five sections of sculpture representing the life of husband 
and wife, the death of the latter, and her entrance into the 
Elysiau Fields. 



154 A YOUTHFUL PRODIGY. 

That which is known as the Amazon Sarcophagus is 
remarkable for the great beauty and rare excellence of its 
alto and basso relievos ; inside it, besides the ashes of the 
deceased, there were discovered petrified balsam, a gold 
■ ring with an emerald stone set therein, and a round garnet. 
The bas-reliefs represent battles of the Amazons, depicted 
in spirited style, the battles being between Amazons and 
Athenians, one of the most commanding figures clad in 
cuirass and helmet being designated as Theseus, the slayer 
of that half bull, half man, mythological ci'eation, Minotaur. 
Upon the cover the carved figures of captive Amazons are 
excellently represented ; and this sarcophagus is considered 
important archseological authority, inasmuch as the arms 
represented upon it as used by the combatants are a per- 
fect illustration of those described by Plutarch as used by 
the Amazons. 

The last of these interesting sepulchral monuments that 
I shall occupy the reader's attention with is one that had 
but quite recently been placed in the museum, and which 
stood at the time of the author's visit in the centre of the 
Hall of Bronzes. It was discovered in 1870. This monu- 
ment is one which was erected about a. d. 96 to a youthful 
prodigy named Quintus Sulpicius Maximus, so the inscrip- 
tion informs us, who died at the early age of eleven years 
and five months, but who was possessed of such extraordi- 
nary talent that he gained the prize for Greek verses over 
fifty-two other competitors. 

One of the honors of this victory consisted in the suc- 
cessful competitor being crowned by the emperor with an 
oak-leaf crown, fastened with strings of gold, at the Capitol, 
in presence of the people. This tomb, which is a sort of 
architectural strdcture, has a statuette of the youth in a 
kind of niche ; he stands holding a roll of manuscript in one 
hand, while the other is raised in the attitude of speaking. 
The pilasters on each side of the statuette are' covered with 
Greek verses, which are understood to be those of the poem 



PRKSERVEES OF ART. 155 

for which the youth received the prize ; the subject being, 
" The arg-umcnts of Jove in reproving* the Sun for in- 
trusting his cliariot to Phaeton," Poor boy 1 he evidently, 
like many of the present day, cultivated his mental at the 
sacrifice of his physical strength, and gained intellectual 
fame at the expense of life itself. 

But there is yet a wealth of other sculpture to see be- 
sides the portrait-busts of Roman emperors : the stories of 
mythology in marble, the magnificent sarcophagi and vases, 
and the full-length, graceful statues of gods, goddesses, 
nymphs, fauns, and athletes, that once enriched the glorious 
old city, and contributed to make it indeed the wonder of 
the world. 

Dug up from old temples, delved from among shattered 
cohimus, or dredged from the river's bed, where they have 
been hurled by the invading host of Goths and Vandals, or 
the destructive hand of the spoiler, come these often ex- 
quisite works of the ancient sculptor's chisel, which those 
of modern times strive in vain to rival. 

If our indignation is sometimes aroused at the ruthless 
manner in which some of the old popes destroyed the mag- 
nificent temples of ancient Rome to decorate or build up 
their own modern structures, and perpetuate their own 
names at the expense of those interesting monuments of 
antiquity, it is somewhat appeased by the efiForts which their 
successors of^ a more modern date appear to have put forth 
for the preservation of the fine specimens of ancient art 
that remain, are discovered, or dug out from the ruins over 
M'hich modern Rome is built. This Capitoline Museum, 
which was begun by Pope Clement XII. in 1730, and aug- 
mented by his immediate successors down to Leo XII., and 
with occasional additions and improvements to the present 
time, is an indication of this desire to rescue and preserve 
to the modern world and art student these priceless relics 
of antiquity. 

One almost wants a condensed history of Rome for a 



156 HALIi OF THE CENTAURS. 

hand-book, as " Murray " and the other guide-books give 
but the mere names of statues and sculptures in the muse- 
ums, taking it for granted, I suppose, that all who visit 
Eome are sufficiently well read not to require explanation, 
or perhaps, what is the more correct reason, that fuller 
explanation would require too much space. I have endeav- 
ored, therefore, in my own notes to give those historic 
associations which invested certain objects of antiquity 
with additional interest to myself. Doubtless the facts may 
be well known to many readers, but, even if so, it will do 
no harm to strengthen memory by repetition.. 

The Hall of the Centaurs is so called from two mag- 
nificently carved figures of Centaurs in dark marble which 
were found among the ruins of Hadrian's villa. The marble 
appears to be of extraordinary hardness, and susceptible of 
a beautiful polish ; and the faces of the Centaurs, and the 
sculpture of the hair of their heads, and in fact all the 
minor details, prove that their sculptors were masters of 
their art. Close inspection shows that each of these figures 
has been cleverly joined together, and the hand-books tell 
us they were broken in fragments when first discovered 
among the ruins. They are among the most interesting 
specimens of sculpture in the museum, as regards the skill 
in which they are wrought in every detail, and are full of 
life and expression. The marks upon their backs show that 
they were originally ridden by Cupids, and a copy of one 
of them in white marble, found near the Church of St. 
Stefano, Eome, which is now in the Museum of the Louvre 
at Paris, has the Cupid which is preserved, still upon its 
back. The youngest of these Centaxirs has the skin of an 
animal he has slain swung over his arm, a crooked club 
upon his shoulder, and, with one hand upraised as he trots 
gayly along, is one of the most spirited statues I ever 
looked upon, and one the admirable execution and finish of 
which draws you to it again and again to view and admire. 

Next, in the Hall of Philosophers, as in that of the 



THE DYING GLADIATOR, 157 

Emperors, the enthusiast may look upon portraits of those 
thinkers of antiquity whose words they have read, studied, 
and perhaps g-roaned over in student life. Ilere are Soc- 
rates, Aristides, whom the voter could not bear to hear called 
" the Just," and old Diogenes of tub and lantern notoriety, 
and mechanical Archimedes, Demosthenes the orator, Soph- 
ocles, Euripides the celebrated Greek tragic poet, and 
Thucydides the Athenian historian ; also a bust of Julian 
the Apostate (Flavins Claudius Julianus), so called, as will 
be remembered, because, although a nephew of Constantino, 
he returned to the worship of the pagan gods, and endeav- 
ored to restore the old religion. 

I will not tire the reader with descriptions of beautiful 
bas-reliefs of mythological story, according to Ovid, in this 
hall, or those of Perseus and Andromeda, and the Rape of 
H3'las in the next ; but hurry on to that marvellous work 
of art, one of the great sculptures of antiquity, that is one 
of the magnets of Rome and one of the art gems of the 
world, — " The Dying Gladiator." 

I am not going to quote Byron's celebrated stanzas, 

although, if the sculptor had desired to have had the story 

he has told in marble reproduced in poetry, it could not 

have been more perfectly done. Neither am I going to 

repeat the explanation respecting the figure being that of a 

dying Gaul, and not a gladiator. It was always a gladiator 

to me, and I have so pictured his fight in Rome's great 

circus, — 

" Face to face 
With death and with the Roman populace," — 

the desperate struggle which he must have made for life 
and victory, and the thoughts of far-off home, wife, and 
children, as he leans upon his hand, while "the arena swims 
around him " as he grows giddy from the loss of the life- 
blood that ebbs from his heart, — I have cherished this ver- 
sion of the story of the statue so long, that it will be ever 
the Dying Gladiator to me. How I enjoyed this perfect 



158 THE MARBLE FATJN. 

piece of sculpture, that not only enlists but absorbs the 
attention, possessing that marvellously attractive power 
owing- to its dramatic character and its story, which it tells 
so distinctly in attitude and expression, that you insensi- 
bly wait with bated breath to see the arm which supports 
the dying man, as he droops his head in agony, relax, and 
his dead body fall prostrate upon the shield beneath him ! 

How marvellously correct in anatomical detail, how sim- 
ple and grand in conception and execution ! How patiently 
must the sculptor of this wondrous work have studied the 
effect of the gradual approach of death upon the human 
frame, to have delineated it in this figure so perfectly that 
one feels as if he stood in the very presence of the dread 
destroyer ! 

Fortunate indeed for us who came after him was it the 
poet wrote those grand stanzas that make us appreciate, 
take in, and enjoy the subject with a pleasure that fills the 
soul with a grander appreciation of it as we link immortal 
verse to glorious sculpture. 

But one wonder follows on another's heels, and I stand 
opposite another great work of art, but of different char- 
acter, in this same hall. It is the statue known as the 
" Faun of Pi-axiteles," — the marble faun that Hawthorne 
wrote of. Ah, how much do we owe to these poets and 
authors ! This figure, so decided a contrast to the one we 
have just been looking upon, none the less beautiful in its 
character, is that of a youthfully delicate young man of 
exquisite mould, standing in easy attitude, leaning against 
a tree, his left hand resting carelessly upon his hip, the 
right holding a flute, while over his right shoulder is 
thrown the lion-skin with head and claws on. 

The easy attitude of this figure is perfection itself; the 
grace of the pose, as well as its naturalness, is wonderful, 
as is the expression of countenance ; the features, marble 
though they are, seem just on the point of breaking into a 
pleasant smile, — so much so that you can scarcely help 



CLASSIC KUINS. 159 

smiling yourself at the roguish, handsome young man, who 
seems to have paused for a moment in his sylvan ramble to 
gaze pleasantly at you with an easy nonchalance that makes 
one all but forget the wondrous skill, and careful, patient 
labor that must have been required to produce from sense- 
less stone anything so like a living figure. 

Another faun is the one in a room known as the Hall 
of the Faun, — a figure found in Hadrian's villa, which ap- 
pears to have been prolific in good things, if we may judge 
from the number that have been discovered there by modern 
antiquarian searchers. 

This beautiful statue is of red marble, and represents one 
of those mythical beings, a faun, holding aloft a bunch of 
grapes with its right hand, the skin of an animal being 
thrown over the left arm ; the graceful pose, easy, natural 
attitude, and wonderful execution of details in the work, 
like that of its fellow-statues, marking it as the creation of 
a master-hand, and conveying an impression of lightness, 
ease, and grace that one can hardly associate with a marble 
statue. The pedestal used for this figure is a votive altar 
to Jupiter found in 1H5 on the Via Appia, and is hand- 
somely sculptured with representations of sacrificial cer- 
emonies and emblematical figures. 

We leave the Capitoline Hill, descend a flight of steps, 
pass along till we come to a point that commands a view 
of a ruin of three beautiful Corinthian columns, one of 
Rome's ruined triumphal arches, and further on ruined pil- 
lars upholding a temple's lofty fagade. I descended into 
a large, open space that was below the street-level ; above 
me rose the Capitol I had just quitted, the stronghold of 
Romulus, the temple of Tarquin the Proud, and glory of 
the emperors, the birthplace of an empire that existed for 
nearly nineteen hundred years. And this spot that I now 
stand upon, which has been overwhelmed by an additional 
crust of earth and ruins, like all the rest of old Rome, — 
why, this must be classic ground. These graceful pillars I 



160 THE ROMAlSr FOEUM. 

recognize as the originals of bronze reproductions, pictures, 
and photographs, — the columns of the Temple of Vespa- 
sian ; and near at hand the eight Ionic columns uphold 
what is left of the portico of the Temple of Saturn, the 
ancient god of the Capitol. Let us recall that here, before 
this very temple, once sat Pompey and listened to the ora- 
tions of Cicero. 

Cicero ! The Roman Forum ! We must be in that birth- 
place of Roman law, celebrated for the wisdom of great 
statesmen, and the eloquence of great orators. To be sure, 
the hand of time has gradually heaped tlie soil each suc- 
ceeding century, till now it is twenty-four feet above that 
of old Rome. It has overthrown temples, arches, rostra, 
and columns, till but a few crumbling relics remain, — 
enough to excite curiosity, and evoke contests between 
antiquaries. An illustrious spot indeed is the Roman 
Forum, and every foot of the ground about us teems with 
associations of historic interest. 

"Who," — writes George S. Hillard, the well-known 
classic scholar, in his " Six Months in Italy," — " who that 
has the least sense of what the present owes to the past, can 
approach such a spot without reverence and enthusiasm ? 
Especially, what member of the legal pi'ofession, unless his 
heart be dry as parchment, and worn as the steps of a 
court-house, can fail to do homage to the genius of a 
place where jurisprudence was reared into a perfect system, 
while Druids were yet cutting the mistletoe on the site of 
Westminster Hall ? " 

And why is it not a sacred place to a scholar, a student, 
a schoolboy, a reader even, — one of the most remarkable 
spots upon the earth, crammed with events, with actions 
that had their birth here, and that for fifteen centuries had 
so marked an influence upon the whole civilized world? 
In fact it was here, when the power of Rome was at its 
height, that the destinies of the world were discussed. Like 
the hill of the Capitol, the names of successive structures 



THE ROSTEUM. 161 

that have come down to us in history as having occupied 
this space — which was about four acres, the Forum being- 
one hundred and eighty yards long by seventy broad — are 
so numerous that antiquaries are sadly at a loss where to 
place many of them. 

The supposition of tliose not familiar with Roman his- 
tory is, that the Forum was simply a place of orators, 
instead of what it really was, a court of justice, public 
exchange, house of representatives, public square, market- 
place, and political hall of assembly, all rolled into one. 
Jlere the popular representatives of tlie plebeians, the 
people, assembled and discussed political matters, and here 
the great orators harangued them. Here Cato, Cicero, 
Cgesar, and Marc Antony have spoken ; indeed, this spot, 
from the time of Romulus down to Augustus, was the very 
heart of the Roman empire, the pulsations of which were 
felt throughout the whole world. 

I stood looking up at the modern Capitol, resting upon 
its great structure of broad blocks of stone called the tabu- 
laHum, one of the earliest architectural relics of Rome, 
and then passing over near to it, stood on the site of the 
tribune, the pulpit, or rostrum from which the orators spoke 
to the people, now a sort of semicircular wall faced with 
marble. Here is where Cicero with his magic eloquence 
swayed the Roman people at will, — a glorious speaker, a 
philosopher, and man of culture. Here was where he 
spoke to hushed crowds of the populace, and pronounced 
his stinging speeches against Antony. And here is where, 
in spirit of mean, dastardly revenge, Antony placed his 
head and hands after his inhuman murder ; and Fulvia, the 
widow of Clodius, revenged herself against the bitter, un- 
palatable truths that had been uttered by the bold, fearless 
tongue, by piercing it with a pin she wore in her hair, and 
spitting in the dead face, the gaze of which, when living, 
had looked into the bloody deeds of such as she, and ex- 
posed them to public gaze. Here also the head of Octavius 
11 



162 THE NAMELESS COLUMN. 

■was placed by Marius, and perhaps it was in imitation of 
the old Romans that the more modern English put con- 
demned heads on the spikes of Temple Bar. 

We may go on a short distance beyond the Arch of 
Septimius Severus to the site of the Temple of Concord, and 
there recite the orations of Cicero against Catiline before the 
senate upon the very spot where they were delivered ; and 
it was here in the Forum, not far from the rostrum, that the 
survivor of the Horatii was condemned to death but saved 
by the overwhelming voice of the people, who refused to 
part with their brave champion. I walk a little further and 
find a sort of square platform of rock, the remains of the 
lower fragment of some temple-wall, apparently, but really 
the site of the Altar of Vulcan, near which sat Brutus when 
he saw with stern justice his own sons led to execution. 

Moving out towards the middle of the Forum, we make 
our way over debris and by a devious path to the foot of a 
tall column, a handsome Corinthian pillar, the excavation of 
which knocked over the theories of antiquaries and scholars 
completely, — the column of Phocas. Nobody thought of 
Phocas, or of a column to him. Byron called it 

" The nameless column with a buried base ; " 

but when the " buried base " was brought to light, lo and 
behold, the inscription showed it to be, not, as was sup- 
posed, part of a building, Temple of Vulcan, or Bridge of 
Caligula, but a column erected in 608, with its base resting 
on the actual pavement of the Forum. 

A superb spectacle the Roman Forum must have pre- 
sented, with its beautiful temples, statues, and triumphal 
arches, when in its prime, as one may easily imagine from 
these veriest fragments that the destroying hand of time has 
left us. The Via Sacra, or sacred way itself, upon one side 
of the space, with its magnificent marble arches at each end 
of the line, was where the grand triumphal processions of 
Rome's emperors and generals came after their bloody raids 



THE ARCH OF TITUS. 163 

(for they were little else) upon distant nations ; here, 
chained barbarians, as they passed along, gazed upon the 
evidences of the wealth and power of their scarcely less 
barbarous, certainly none the less cruel conquerors. 

These triumphal arches are magnificent relics of Rome's 
luxurj^ power, and art, and the visitor cannot help realizing 
it as he stands before that most beautiful one, the Arch of 
Titus, commemorating the destruction of Jerusalem, and 
being, therefore, interesting from its connection with Scrip- 
ture history, and its bas-reliefs, which have furnished designs 
for many illustrations for modex'u editions of the Bible and 
Scripture history. 

For upon its white marble piers are elaborate representa- 
tions of the costly spoils of the sacred city of the Jews, 
which the conqueror brought home to Rome, — the familiar 
seven-branched candlestick, golden table of shew-bread, 
trumpets of the jubilee, &c. ; and we find that the descrip- 
tion of old Josephus, read in boyhood, is correct, and that 
the woodcut illustration of the great holy candlestick, which 
is represented in the old pictorial editions of the book, 
is the exact counterpart of that sculptured upon this arch, 
which the slaves and soldiers are bearing upon their shoul- 
ders in the triumphal procession. 

Upon this arch is also represented the conquering em- 
peror returning from Jerusalem in his chariot surrounded by 
his troops, holding his sceptre in one hand and a palm 
branch in the other, while a figure of Victory is in the act 
of placing the laurel wreath upon his brow. The face of 
the figure of Titus is almost completely destroyed ; muti- 
lated, it is said, by stones cast at it by the Jews whose 
defeat and subjugation this arch commemorates. Indeed, 
to this day it is averred that no Jew will pass beneath this 
memento of the Roman conqueror's victory, either in their 
walks or business, but go around it ; for it perpetuates the 
memory of their wrongs and the name of their oppressor. 
And farther beyond is the great Colosseum, where he pressed 



164 ARCH OF SEPTIMIUS SEVEEUS. 

them with such severity that the Hebrew laborers went 
down by thousands beneath the taskmaster's whip, and the 
more wealthy were squeezed a few years after by Domitian, 
his brother, until the last coin that persecution could wring 
from them was obtained. 

The arch is a page of marble history, — verified history, 
unlike many other Roman ruins, — seventeen hundred years 
old ; and, though many may prefer the construction of the 
Arch of Constantino to the more simple and solid style of 
this, they can hardly examine the sculptured decorations 
with so much interest. 

This arch, when in its prime, and with the beautiful white 
marble of which it is constructed shifting in the sunlight, 
must have presented a splendid appearance. It is exactly 
as high as it is long, being fifty feet in height and fifty feet 
long. The width of the passage, or single arched opening, 
is nineteen feet, and the thickness or breadth of the arch 
sixteen and one-half feet. This arch and the Colosseum, 
which Titus completed and opened, remind us that we used 
to read that he was an industrious emperor, and that it was 
he who said, after a day of leisure, " I have lost a day." 

The three best preserved and most interesting arches in 
Rome are those I have referred to in the immediate vicinity 
of the Forum and by the side of the way over which the 
victorious triumphs passed, namely : that of Titus just de- 
scribed, and those of Constantino and Septimius Severus. 

The last-named arch is smallest of the three, and its base 
rests on what was the ancient level of the Forum, giving 
the visitor who descends to it an idea of the change that 
has occurred in grade since the days of old Rome. This 
arch was erected to commemorate the victories of Severus 
over the Parthians, Arabs, and various Eastern tribes, a. d. 
203. It has one grand central passage, and two side or 
lesser ones. It was of pure white marble, and when in its 
perfect state had a group of sculpture upon the top, con- 
sisting of a triumphal car drawn by six horses. In the car, 



THB ARCH OF C0N8TANTINE. 165 

says one authority, stood statues of the emperor and his 
sons, Caracalla and Geta, though the guide-books say it 
was a bronze chariot with a figure of Severus being crowned 
by Victory. I am of the opinion of the historian, how- 
ever ; who puts the two brothers in the chariot, as they 
erected the arch, and would hardly let this opportunity of 
gratifying their Roman vanity pass. Geta was murdered by 
Caracalla when he succeeded to the imperial purple, and in 
the inscription on the structure Geta's name was erased by 
his brother. 

This arch has also four elegant columns on each side of its 
fronts. The sculptures upon it appear to delineate the wars 
of Severus, and groups of warriors in battles, sieges, coun- 
cils, and marches, figure conspicuously. One scene repre- 
sents the siege of a city in which the battering-ram is being 
worked most effectively upon the walls of the enemy. 
However, the guide-books pretend to tell and enumerate all 
the scenes in the life of the emperor which these sculptures 
represent. The arch to his honor perpetuates his name, 
which is also recognized as that of one of the most cruel 
persecutors of the Christians; still, he was a tolerable em- 
peror for Rome, as emperors went in those days, and had 
eighteen years of power. The reason why he caused com- 
paratively less blood to flow in Rome than some of his pre- 
decessors may have been from the fact that his active 
employment in Britain, and with other powers that he was 
continually combating, kept him too busily employed. 

The Arch of Constantine, which every visitor to Rome will 
remember as standing near the Colosseum, seems to be the 
best preserved and finest of the three ; but many of its 
sculptures and bas-reliefs are known to have been those 
which were carved to honor an emperor who flourished two 
centuries before Constantine, — Trajan, — as they were 
taken from an arch formerly existing, erected to that em- 
peror and placed upon this, which is now one of the best 
preserved and most interesting monuments in Rome, apart 



166 BORROWED SCULPTURE. 

from its antiquity, — having been dedicated to the first 
Christian sovereign. 

The inscription sets forth that the senate and Eoman 
people have dedicated this triumphal arch to the emperor, 
because he, with the greatness of his mind and with his just 
arms, at the same time revenged the state on the tyrant and 
on his (the tyrant's) political party. The sculptures, how- 
ever, represent Trajan (not Constantine) entering Eome ; 
offering sacrifices to the gods, (which a Christian emperor 
of course did not do ;) Trajan's triumph over the king of 
Armenia, &c. 

This arch has one central and two side arches, and had 
four elegant Corinthian columns on each front. The fine 
sculptures are on the attic above the great arch, in two 
medallions over each of the smaller arches ; and there are 
flying figures with trophies immediately over the great arch, 
besides friezes and bas-reliefs on the sides by the smaller 
arches, and carved allegorical figures at the base of each 
Corinthian pillar. The lower bas-reliefs on the arch are of 
the deeds of Constantine, but are far inferior in execution 
to those above, which were plundered from the Trajan arch, 
the ruins of which existed down to 1430, according to his- 
torical accounts ; thus it appears that even in Constantino's 
time the example of appropriating the monuments of their 
predecessors for their own glorification was set, i which mod- 
ern popes of Eome have in many instances faithfully fol- 
lowed. Clement VIII. appropriated one of the eight Co- 
rinthian columns of this arch, and carried it away to finish a 
chapel with. 

It may be well here to remind the reader that the Arc 
de Triomphe du Carrousel, situated in front of the principal 
entrance to the Palace of the Tuileries, in Paris, erected by 
Napoleon I. in 1806, is an imitation of the Arch of Severus. 

We could not leave the Capitoline Hill and Eoman Fo- 
rum without a visit to that hole of horrors, the Marmetine 
Prison, an historic dungeon with which are connected so 



,THE MARMETINE PRISON. 167 

many associations that one docs not like to miss it among 
the list of sig'hts to be seen. There is but little doubt 
expressed by tlie antiquaries that it was here, after being 
dragged in chains behind the triumphal chariot of Caius 
Marius, where Jugurtha was shut up and starved to death. 
The prison now, or the upper part of it, is made into a little 
church or oratory, with religious emblems and votive ofFer- 
iiigs hung about ; and what most strikes one, as he sits down 
and waits for the dirty brown-frocked monk to prepare the 
greasy tallow candles for descent into the lower or real 
dungeon, are the massive blocks of stone of which the 
structure is composed — strength enough to confine a Titan. 
In ancient times there was no staircase, but prisoners were 
let down through a trap door or hole in the roof. Now, 
however, a monk (for a gratuity, of course) shows you 
down a flight of stone steps into the dungeon described by 
Livy and Sallust. The latter describes it as " a place about 
ten feet deep surrounded by walls, with a vaulted roof of 
stone above it." The dungeon is hemispherical in shape, 
and about twenty feet in diameter, although it seemed of 
smaller dimensions to me in the brief time I sta^'ed, and the 
whole appearance of the place was as fearful and dungeon- 
like as the most vivid imagination could desire. Its damp, 
cold, pitiless stones have been witness to the most terrible 
scenes of torture and suffering, for the visitor here stands 
within the inclosure which, built four or five centuries before 
the Ca?sars, was the prison where Appius Claudius, the em- 
peror who endeavored to obtain possession of the daughter 
of Virginius, slew himself to escape the vengeance of the 
people ; and here was the brave Manlius Capitolinus im- 
mured, despite his services to his countrymen, which weighed 
as nothing against the power of the nobles. Here, as the 
triumphs turned aside after their grand march through the 
city and Forum, were captive kings and chiefs plunged after 
having been exhibited as a spectacle to the populace. The 
alleged accomplices of Catiline were strangled in this gloomy 



f 



168 THE PRISON OF THE APOSTLES. 

vault by order of Cicero, who came forth himself bearing 
the news of their death to the people in the Forum, exclaim- 
ing-, in answer to their clamoroua inquiries, " Vixerunt " 
(they have lived). 

A cruel cavern it is indeed, for within it Julius Caesar 
basely thrust the king- of the Gauls who surrendered him- 
self voluntarily to save his people, and, after keeping him 
six years captive, murdered him here. Sejanus, the favorite 
of Tiberius, met his just fate within these walls ; and Simon 
of Goria, the last brave defender of Jerusalem, after being 
dragged and scourged at the chariot-wheels of Titus, in his 
triumphal entry into Eome, also yielded up his life upon the 
floor that for twenty-three centuries has been soaked with 
the blood of chieftains, senators, kings, and emperors. 

Yet it is not these events that render it so interesting a 
spot to the Christian visitor, for it was here that Peter and 
Paul are said to have been confined for nine months during 
their imprisonment in Rome ; and I confess, as the monk 
who was acting as our cicerone pointed out what he averred 
to be the very pillar to which these apostles were chained 
during their captivity, that, although I did not reverently 
kiss it, as did a Roman Catholic of the party, I could not 
leave without laying ray hands upon the spot upon which 
might perhaps have rested the hands of those who had 
pressed the blessed palm of Christ within their own. The 
little fountain or well in the floor, the Romish Church must, 
of course, ascribe a miraculous origin to : they say it sprang 
up at the bidding of the two apostles for them to baptize 
their jailers whom they had converted. As we came up 
the staircase, our guide also called attention to a depression 
or indentation in the stone, which is said to have been the 
impression made by the head of St. Peter, who was rudely 
thrust against it by his jailer. It is thus the Church of 
Rome, by the demand for such credulity as this, and appeals 
to the most ignorant, really tends to shake historical belief 
in other characteristics of ruins, relics, or localities, that have 
a certain amount of authenticity. 



TKAJAN's COLUMN". 1G9 

Chief in my memory of this horrid prison, however, was 
tliat it had been the dungeon of Jugurtha, and of Peter and 
Paul, and it was one of the things to bo seen in visiting 
Rome in my mind years before this experience. Having 
accomplished the visit, we made all haste to leave its gloomy 
recesses and damp atmosphere which Jugurtha even in his 
day compared to " a cold bath," and emerged into the 
upper chamber, and thence once more into the more genial 
atmosphere and under the cloudless blue sky of Italy, all 
the more beautiful in contrast with the gloomy cavern we 
had quitted, and the terrible scenes which a visit to it 
recalls. 

The soil of modern Rome seems to be an earth shroud 
over the remains of the ancient city ; and to get at the 
entrance to temples, the sites of forums, and the court- 
yards of palaces, one must dig down through the dust of 
centuries. The wave of earth wells up over the steps of 
the Pantheon, and has surged its billow around the base 
of the Colosseum, so that excavations give it the appear- 
ance of being surrounded by an earth work thrown up from 
just without its outer barrier. The once proud Palace of 
the Csesars, until a few years past, slumbered beneath a 
flourishing vineyard ; and you may now, curiously enough, 
see the different strata of Rome's history, as it were, indi- 
cated in the structures that each rise above the other's 
ruins, — the Wall of Romulus, the structures of Tarquin, 
the Palace of Nero, — literally one atop of the other. 

As I came, one day, to an excavated square, with serried 
rows of the broken lower parts of columns that were evi- 
dently the fragments of some ancient temple, I knew, as I 
sat down upon one huge shaft that seemed long since to 
have been raised from the excavated area below, and laid in 
the more modern street alongside the rail that guarded the 
brink, that I was looking down into Trajan's Forum. I 
knew it by the tall, graceful column that stood there to the 
memory of the great emperor. Familiar as an old acquaint- 



170 A BEAUTIFU£ MONUMENT. 

ance, it reared its tall height, wreathed with the chronologi- 
cal story of his victories, and brought to mind its counter- 
feit presentment in the Place Vendome at Paris (erected by 
a great emperor of modern times, ambitious to be remem- 
bered as a modern Ceesar), and by monuments of a similar 
description. 

Paris did not have to wait for Goths and Vandals, as did 
Rome, to destroy its historical monuments that in recording 
the deeds of their great emperor preserved alike the chron- 
icle of the bravery and victories of their own forefathers. 
No 1 Paris had its own barbarians always within its walls, 
who were ready to wrench from its foundations the monu- 
ment of cannon conquered from the enemy's battlefield, and 
prostrate it ignominiously in the filth of the street. The 
ascendency of men over madmen, however, has replaced the 
modern French monument ; and the old Eoman one to Tra- 
jan, from which it was copied, has always remained firm 
upon its pedestal since raised by the senate and the Roman 
people, A. D, 114, and is to-day one of the most beautiful 
monuments remaining of the Eternal City. It is one hun- 
dred and thirty feet in height, and composed of successive 
blocks of marble, " thirty-four in number," so the guide- 
books tell us, piled one upon the other. These are covered 
by a spiral band of carvings or bas-reliefs from the base of 
the pillar to the top, the carvings ingeniously and gradually 
increased in size from two feet in height to double that size 
as they near the top, so that harmonious proportions are 
preserved to the eye of the spectator from below. 

The figure of Trajan holding a globe in his hand formerly 
crowned the summit ; the globe is now in the Hall of Bronzes 
at the Capitoline Museum, and Trajan's figure is replaced 
by a statue of St. Peter upon the column. This ought to' 
be removed and the emperor's statue restored, that it might 
be a less incongruous specimen of antiquity ; for the apos- 
tolic statue is out of place upon the column of the pagan 
emperor. 



UNEARTHING OLD ROME. 171 

The Forum of Trajan, which is here buried under modern 
Rome, was one of the most splendid in the ancient city ; and 
liere stood his arch, from which were plundered the eleg-ant 
bas-reliefs alluded to as taken to decorate the Arch of Con- 
stantine two hundred years after, and the splendid equestrian 
statue of the emperor, — a statue which, as the story runs, 
excited the en%'y of Constantine, who wished "that he had 
such a horse/' and was told " that he must first make for 
him such a stable." Here were also glorious temples and 
splendid statues in bronze and marble ; but the breath of 
time has withered them into dust, all but this one great 
marble finger-post pointing to the past. 

An excavation around this column was made in the six- 
teenth century, and further work of excavating done by the 
French in 1812. Indeed, when the tourist sees how much 
of this work of excavating was done more recently at the 
Palace of the Ctesars by Louis Napoleon, when he was em- 
pei'or, while the French army were in Rome propping up 
papal power with their friendly bayonets, he is half inclined 
to be selfish enough to wish that Italian liberty might have 
been postponed till there had been laid bare a few more 
secrets of the buried past. The great pedestal, seventeen 
feet high, is covered with sculptures of Roman warlike weap- 
ons and armor ; winged figures support the tablet bearing 
the inscription ; and why is it the guide-books take it for 
granted that all travellers are expert Latin scholars, and 
never in any instance translate these most diflBcult of Latin 
sentences, with their abbreviated words, for the benefit of 
those whom they puzzle ? 

The inscription upon this column, which no guide-book 
pretends to translate, and which but few give in the original, 
states that " the Senate and the Roman people dedicate this 
to the Emperor Csesar, Divus Nerva Flavins, Nerva Trajan, 
Augustus Pontifex Maximus, in his 17th tribunate, 6th con- 
sulate, and 6th emperor, in order to proclaim what greatness 
was his. The mountain has been removed that there may be 
place for so great a work." 



172 A PILLAR OF HISTORY. 

This last sentence alludes, probably, to the fact that exca- 
vations were made and part of a hill removed for the com- 
pletion of the Forum and column of the great emperor. 

The lower part of the shaft itself, which is about thirteen 
feet in diameter, springs out of an immense wreath. The 
sculptures that run around it are very well preserved, and 
must be a most interesting study to the antiquary and 
student. The column is of pure Carrara marble, and its 
workmanship inside as well as outside something quite re- 
markable, as within, the thirty-four blocks have been cut 
into a spiral staircase. When we consider the careful 
matching of the hollowed blocks that the chronological 
sculpture should be a perfect, continuous spiral, the stair- 
case be exactly matched, and the whole structure architec- 
turally perfect, we are again impressed with the skill of the 
builders of old Rome, and the point of excellence to which 
mechanics as well as the arts had been carried in those 
days. Trajan's Column is an illustrated pillar of history. 
Its sculptures are said to display nearly two thousand five 
hundred human figures, besides horses, bridges, fortresses, 
rivers, and warlike weapons ; but it is the sculptured scroll 
of actors whose names and deeds are forgotten save that 
they lived and were conquered. The ashes of Trajan are 
reported to be buried underneath the base of this magnifi- 
cent pillar, a worthy monument of an emperor, " who," 
says Gibbon, " made war only to secure peace, and left 
the Roman empire greater and more prosperous than he 
received it from the hands of his predecessors." 

Another column in Rome, modelled affer that of Trajan, 
although not equal to it in artistic execution, is that of 
Marcus Aurelius, which stands in a square known as the 
Piazza Colonna. This was also erected by " the senate and 
the Roman people," a. d. 114, to the emperor, in honor of 
his victories over the Marcomanni. It is of the same gen- 
eral design as the Column of Trajan, the shaft being, like 
that, surrounded hy a spiral band of bas-reliefs or carvings 



AN EGYPTIAN RELIC. 173 

running from base to summit, representing battles and mil- 
itary scenes in the emperor's life. As a whole, the sculp- 
tures are inferior in design and execution to those upon the 
sliaft of Trajan. 

This column is built of twenty-eight blocks of white mar- 
ble, and is eleven feet and six inches in diameter at its base, 
and its height, including the pedestal, one hundred and 
twenty-two feet and eight inches. Inside there is a spiral 
staircase composed of one hundred and ninety steps, and 
on the summit stands a statue of St. Paul, ten feet in 
height, of course as incongruous an addition as that to 
Trajan's Column. The blunder of denominating this column 
that of Antoninus Pius is told in the guide-books, and the 
tourist will do well to bear it in mind, — as it is even now 
frequently denominated the Antonine Column, — for Marcus 
Aurelius's name was Marcus Antoninus. The reader will 
recall the author's description of the ancient bronze eques- 
trian statue of this, one of the best of Roman emperors, in 
front of the Capitol. The glories of old Rome were rap- 
idly decaying when he assumed the imperial purple, but his 
energy, justice, philosophy, and purity of mind stand out 
in marked contrast with the characteristics of the many 
bloody tyrants who had preceded him. 

A few steps from this square and we are in that of 
Monte Citorio, where we may look upon another column, 
in comparison with which the one we have left is but of 
modern date '/for this, an Egyptian obelisk erected to an 
Egyptian king more than six hundred years before Christ, 
was brought to ^ome from Heliopolis by Augustus, and 
was set up in the Campus Martins as a sun-dial. Old as it 
is, the hieroglyphics upon the ancient red granite shaft are 
clear and distinct, and doubtless record the Egyptian mon- 
arch's deeds as faithfully as the spiral-twined shafts do 
those of the more modern rulers of Rome. Pope Pius VI. 
joined the five fragments of this fine obelisk together, and 
raised it from where it had fallen to this position, where it 



174 CONVENT OF THE CAPUCHINS. 

now stands surmounted by a bronze globe, which it rears 
one hundred and thii-ty-four feet into the air. 

The old popes did a good thing when they preserved and 
set up those splendid monuments of antiquity, the Egyptian 
obelisks which the emperors brought home as spoils to 
Rome, as they are among the interesting objects that to-day 
attract the tourist's attention. That in front of St. Peter's 
has already been referred to, and there are several others, 
chief among which, however, is that known as the obelisk of 
the Lateran in the Piazza di San Giovanni. Here, indeed, I 
felt I was in the presence of antiquity, standing before this 
tallest obelisk in Rome, a shaft one hundred and fifty feet 
high, cut in honor of the Pharaoh Thothmes IV., seventeen 
hundred and forty years before Christ ! 

Daily on my sight-seeing excursions did I drive down 
from the Hotel Constanzi, — so named after its landlord, 
formerly an expert courier, and at the time I was in Rome 
a very good hotel-keeper, — daily did I drive down through 
Barberini Square, or Piazza Barberini, I perhaps should say, 
and past the Triton fountain, where the great Triton seems 
to have exhausted his lungs to but little purpose, inasmuch 
as he sends a stream of water through the shell at his lips 
ridiculously small in comparison to his apparent size and 
strength, — drive past an opening into another square, and 
on to the old or more modern city. 

" What square is that, Antonio ? " 

" Piazza Cappuccini, Monsieur. Would Monsieur like to 
visit the Convent ? " 

" Convent of the Capuchins ! Why, that is the place 
where the monks' skeletons are used as decorations for 
funeral chambers, is it not ? " 

" Yes, Monsieur, they use the bones for decoration of 
the burial-place." 

One of the very places I had a curiosity to see. Accord- 
ing to travellers' stories, both written and verbal, I had 
pictured to myself a long series of vaulted passages, hun- 



CAPUCHIN CHURCH. 175 

dreds of feet in length, whose gloomy extensions were like 
the Catacombs of Paris, of mortuary architecture, pillars 
of skulls, architraves of ribs, and podium of thigh-bones, 
with curiously fashioned colls, each holding the dried or 
mummied specimen of the pious brotherhood, ghastly re- 
minders to those who were to come after of how frail a 
tiling is mortality. So now I addressed myself to the task 
of visiting this famous burial-place. 

We descended from our carriage at the church of the 
Convent, founded in 1624 by Cardinal Barberini, a brother 
of Pope Urban VIII., who, while his whole family were 
building splendid palaces, only built and endowed this con- 
vent and church, and appears to have been a man of very 
moderate ambition and real humility. The Barberini Square 
is called for his family. 

A brown-frocked, not over-clean specimen of the brother- 
hood admitted us into the church, which in itself has but 
few attractions, and does not appear to be very well cared 
for. It is chiefly remarkable for several very fine pictures, 
the principal one of which is a magnificent one by Guide, 
representing the archangel Michael trampling down Satan. 
The figure of Michael is magnificent, with his pure, angelic 
brow, and sweet yet noble expression, as, poised just above 
his adversaiy, he brandishes aloft the sword with which he 
drives the rebellious angel down, never to rise again. 

A picture of the " Death of St. Francis," by Domenichino, 
and one of "Ananias and Saul," by Cortona, attracted 
our attention most, and near the high altar our monkish 
guide pointed out the tomb of Alexander Sobieski, the son 
of the king of Poland. In front of the altar Cardinal 
Barberini is buried, and his epitaph, which the monk called 
attention to as typical of the humility of the holy man, 
reads, — 

HIC JACET PULVIS, CINIS, ET NIHIL. 
("Here lies naught but dust and ashes.") 

With a somewhat quizzical smile, the brown-robed brother 



176 LADIES NOT ADMITTED. 

withdrew two of the more eager members of our party, — 
ladies who, after making the detour of the church, were 
about passing through an entrance into the monastery, — 
and, plucking them by the sleeve, intimated that none but 
those of the masculine gender could pass through its sacred 
precincts. Hence that portion of the party composed of 
the gentler sex, who desired to visit the cemetery of the 
Capuchins, which was our aim, was compelled to make a 
detour outside the building, while we passed through the 
monastery. A shabby old convent it appeared to be, and 
looked as though the presence of a dozen or twenty good 
scrubbing-women would have done essential service. 

There were, we were informed, about two hundred monks 
here, although we saw scarcely a dozen. Their cells 
were simple, narrow apartments, with three-legged stool, 
wretched bed, crucifix, and little wooden table bearing a 
black prayer-book or rosary, and lighted by a narrow, 
prison-like slit of a window. The refectory was an im- 
mense room, with long tables set, at which the monks took 
their meals. A dingy, cheerless-looking place enough it 
was, and in the halls, save occasional little fonts of holy 
water at certain points or passages as we passed through, 
there were no decorations or ornament ; and this dull old 
hole of retirement for monkish beggars was uninterest- 
ing enough, — at least the portion of it we were permitted 
to s.ee. 

Our cowled guide soon reached a door, which he un- 
locked, and we descended into the celebrated burial-place 
of the brotherhood, where we found the ladies, who had 
been admitted by another entrance, awaiting us. 

I was wretchedly disappointed in the place, and found 
that the long-bow had been drawn to its fullest extent by 
ingenious writers. It was a long, narrow apartment, not 
beneath the level of the ground, but lighted by grated win- 
dows that appeared to look out upon a dilapidated old 
garden and stable-yard. The cemetery is an apartment 



A HALL OF HOERORS. 177 

about fifty feet long perhaps, and twenty or thirty wide. 
About two-thirds of the width, and the whole length, were 
occupied by four or five compartments or divisions, like 
potato bins, which are filled with earth brought from Jeru- 
salem, and in which each monk, as he dies, is placed in his 
robe and rosary to mingle with its sacred dust. From the 
length of time this earth has been used for this purpose, 
and the number of cowled brothers who have slept their 
last sleep in it, I fancy that an aualyzation would reveal 
seventj-^-five per cent. Capuchin to twentj'-five of honest 
earth by this time. The earth, or place, or dry atmosphere, 
or all, seems to have the property of drying away, not rot- 
ting, the flesh from the bones of those buried, for there was 
not the slightest offensive odor in the place. 

As the burial-place is far too small for the convent, when- 
ever a brother dies they dig up the one who was buried the 
longest, and inter the last deceased in his place. The bones 
of the disinterred are used for decorating and fitting up the 
four burial-bins or sacred compartments into grim and hor- 
rible mortuary chapels. Chandeliers of skulls and thigh- 
bones, ornamental frescos of the small bones of toes and 
fingers, altars of leg and arm bones, and twining designs 
of bits of vertebra, — every part of the human skeleton 
put into this grim and horrible architecture and dec- 
oration. 

Not only is this lavish display made of the last remnants 
of mortality, but in a niche in each of the divisions above 
mentioned is the skeleton, or dried mummy, of some worthy 
brother, who perhaps was thought to have been too good in 
the flesh to be broken up and mingled indiscriminately with 
his fellows. And there they sit in their mouldering cowls, 
the shining bones peeping out here and there through the 
rents in their tattered robes, and their eyeless sockets and 
grinning jaws seeming to express a liideous laugh ; or with 
a bunch of withered flowers, as one had in its bony grasp, 
and in its half fallen-over position, and head pushed at one 
12 



178 SUPPRESSION OF THE COKVENT. 

side, having a sort of terrible expression, as though it had 
perished in the act of plucking the flowers that it held. 
Quite the contrary was another, whose expression and atti- 
tude gave it the appearance of a convivial brother ; oi', if 
one could imagine such a thing, a drunken skeleton, — a 
sight at once horrible and laughable. 

The place, to those not used to such sights, was a verita- 
ble hall of horrors, such as might be imagined or told in a 
ghostly romance, — a grave-digger's museum, a charnel-house 
drawing-room, — a lesson for ambition, and a hint from the 
King of Terrors ; something which makes those of weak 
nerves shudder, and hope they shall not dream about it at 
night. 

Our monkish guide, who pointed out all the striking fea- 
tures of the place, and even knew some of the skulls by 
name, and had known one of the dried-up brothers in the 
more plump flesh of life, spoke with great sang froid of 
being interred there himself, as the others had been, when 
his time should come. 

In this wish, however, he may be disappointed, for, since 
the author's visit. King Victor Emmanuel, who is doing a 
work of civilization in abolishing many of these collections 
of legalized beggars in Eome, has taken this convent in 
hand, and on the 5th of August, 1875, the building was 
confiscated by the Italian government. The monks, who 
were all men past forty years of age, to the number of two 
hundred, were summoned to the refectory, where the king's 
proclamation was read, setting them free, and granting 
them a sixty-dollar pension. Many of them — having 
never done a stroke of work in their lives, fat from laziness, 
and dirty from not having put forth exertion enough to keep 
themselves clean, awkward and unused to the ways of 
men — will undoubtedly seek some other convent not yet 
suppressed, where they will live a like secluded, idle, and 
lazy life to the end of their days. But the convent, or a 
portion of it at least, is to be utilized for a warehouse, and 



THE VATICAN. 179 

the cemetery, with its grisly architecture and decoration, 
will cease to be one of the sights for tourists to see and 
writers to describe, as all these dismal relics of mortality 
will be decently buried. 



CHAPTER X. 

I HATE seen the Vatican, that is to say, I have visited it, 
several times, and when collecting- together, after my last 
visit, a pile of memoranda, guide-books with annotations 
and marginal references, note-book with jottings and dia- 
grams, and sundry photographic views, and setting them 
aside, I sat down and attempted to recall what I had seen 
into something like regular order, it seemed like endeavoring 
to record a dream a week old. 

Throe or four consecutive visits to these interminable 
galleries — wondrous as a fairy dream, magnificent as an 
Eastern fable, and bewildering in their never ending succes- 
sion of art, novelty, antiquity, beauty, ingenuity, and history, 
— put mind and imagination into such a whirl and confusion 
that it seems almost impossible to give a clear idea of any- 
thing you have seen in this marvellous and unexcelled col- 
lection. 

It is the grandest museum in the world ; it has had old 
Rome's imperial ruins, buried sculptures, marbles, and stat- 
ues to draw from for centuries, and successive popes have 
rivalled each other in building splendid additions for rich, 
rare, and priceless collections which each added to it, deco- 
rating them by the pencils of great artists, till walls, and 
even ceilings, became artistic wonders, and the halls and 
galleries caskets worthy of the gems they contain. He 
who attempts to write of the Vatican is at a loss where to 



180 THE ART MUSEUM OF THE WORLD. 

begin or what to describe, the collection is so vast, the 
beauty is so inimitable. 

He who is a lover of museums of art, taste, or antiquity 
is like a beggar set down in a room full of gold and told it 
is his own — the prospect is so boundless, the vista of de- 
light so never-ending, that it fairly intoxicates, and one must 
pause, get sobered and steadied, in order to collect his ideas 
that he may utilize any portion of the vast wealth that is 
thus placed within his grasp. 

It is absurd to suppose that one can see or properly 
appreciate a tithe of this priceless collection in the time 
ordinarily devoted by tourists in Rome ; indeed, it seems 
that three or four visits do little else than confuse one 
and impress him with the idea that to give it a thorough 
study and inspection he would have to remain in the Holy 
City an ordinary lifetime. 

I cannot pretend, and shall not attempt, to do more than 
give the reader a few sips of the cup to arouse taste for the 
enchanting draught at this fountain of art when he himself 
shall visit it. Indeed, I feel that the few visits I have made 
to it, though careful as far as they extend, have given me 
but comparatively small insight into its prodigality of art, 
amazing richness of antiquities, and wondrous treasures of 
sculpture, literature, and historic relics. / In fine, the Vati- 
can overshadows all other museums in the world in size 
of collection and in wonders of painting, frescos, and 
statuary. Its wealth is the result of hundreds of years of 
labor, ambition, and bequests of genius to posterity. Here 
the student may study ancient and modern art, sculpture, 
and painting from the most perfect models in existence. 

As a pile of buildings the exterior of the Vatican is not 
striking, impressive, or attractive ; it is simply an assem- 
blage of different edifices, of no uniformity of architecture, 
as they were built at different periods by different architects, 
and have since been altered from time to time by different 
popes, or connected together by various methods to suit 



OBSTRUCTIONS TO VISITORS. 181 

tlieir convenience. But within, there are numerous superb 
architectural displays and magnificent effects in the con- 
struction of its vast halls, colonnades, and staircases. The 
Vatican is said to contain eight grand staircases, two hun- 
dred smaller ones, twenty courts, and about five thousand 
chambers of various sizes, although one authority (Baedeker) 
gives it " eleven thousand halls, chapels, saloons, and private 
apartments." Most tourists, however, like the author, will 
not probably take the trouble to verify either of these state- 
ments by actual count, but will find themselves, after re- 
peated vifeits, passing many objects that need not be viewed 
a second time, and also pass by very many which they will 
not have time or inclination to view at all, till they find 
their circle of observation gradually narrowing down to 
those great wonders of art that are of world-wide celebrity, 
the beauty of which is attested by each succeeding gen- 
eration. 

The papal custodians are not over-obliging to visitors, 
and the arrangements, at the time of the author's visit, were 
anything but conducive to convenience. The visitor, after 
seeing the Sistine Chapel and picture gallery, instead of 
being permitted to pass through a portion of the building to 
the sculpture galleries, as formerly, was compelled to de- 
scend to the entrance-door, take carriage, and make a con- 
siderable detour to the other side of the building to reach 
them by an entirely different entrance. This involves con- 
siderable time, which one does not like to sacrifice, espe- 
cially'^ as the longest time permitted to visitors was between 
the hours of nine and three, and this is shortened nearly half 
an hour by the custodians, who commence at about half past 
two to clear the apartments most distant from the entrance, so 
that the gates may be promptly closed at the hour. But it is 
of no use complaining, for it is the Pope's palace and mu- 
seum, and, in view of Victor Emmanuel's reforms, he probably 
docs not feel very anxious about inconveniencing his offi- 
cials, or they themselves, more than is absolutely necessary. 



182 THE pope's guard. 

But for all the inconveniences, real or imaginary, that the 
visitor experiences, the conviction forces itself upon him 
that the world owes much gratitude to the pontiffs whose 
liberality and skill brought together these wonderful ex- 
amples of art. 

Before passing the gates and ascending the magnificent 
flight of stairs which we saw before us, I paused to view 
the fine perspective, and to inspect the extraordinary uni- 
form of a group of the Pope's guard that was standing at 
this point. These men are evidently selected, as were the 
French cent gardes, and Frederick the Great's grenadiers, for 
their height. Tlieir uniform is more gaudy and theatrical 
than the " beef-eaters' " of the Tower of London. That of 
the privates or halberdiers is of alternate stripes of red, 
black, and yellow. The breeches are large and baggy, 
reaching just below the knees, and the legs are inclosed ia 
black and yellow striped stockings. The coat or jacket 
reached a little below the hips, and was, like the rest of the 
dress, of broad, red, black, and yellow stripes. A white, 
round ruff about the neck, and a cavalry helmet almost 
shrouded in the white feathers, completed this extraordinary 
and strikingly conspicuous uniform. The privates carried a 
staff about eight feet in length, the end being a spear and 
axe, the whole very like an ancient halberd. 

The dress of the officers is similar to that of the men, 
except that their helmets are crowned with red instead of 
white feathers ; and the one that I saw had on a regular 
metallic cuirass, or breastplate, like that worn by the French 
cuirassiers in the time of Napoleon I. — a terribly uncomfort- 
able costume for guard duty in a warm climate, however 
pretty it might look in pictures or pageants. These absurdly 
dressed guards of him who claims to be the vicar of Christ 
and the successor of St. Peter, are but one of the curious 
costumes, religious and military, that are continually greet- 
ing our sight in the Holy City. 

There are, of course, the different orders of monks, dis- 



COSTUMES IN ROME. 183 

tinguished by their gray, or black, or brown cowls, includ- 
ing the Capuchins before alluded to, who sleep in their 
dresses and change them only once in three years, and 
those friars who go about begging with a sort of fire-bucket 
looking pail for cold victuals, cash, or anything they can 
get ; and the cardinals' servants or attendants, in curious, 
old-fashioned liveries which always have an appearance of 
being two or throe sizes too big for them. Then there are 
the diilcrent orders of students for the priesthood, distin- 
guished by the color of their long robes or outer cloaks, or 
great shovel hats ; and the Avhite-bonneted sisters of charity. 
In fact, the frequent meeting and constant presence of these 
different religious uniforms remind the visitor that he is at 
the chosen homo of the Papal Church. Besides these, there 
are still the oddly-costumed, brigandish-looking peasants 
and families that come in for artists' models or to beg of 
such strangers in the travelling season as halt to look at the 
high, peaked hats and ribbons, and swathed legs and gay 
jackets of the men, and gaudy aprons, big hairpins, and 
scarfs of the women. But I am keeping the reader all this 
time at tlie foot of the staircase leading in to the Vatican ; 
and a glorious staircase it is, fit for popes and emperors to 
ascend. The Scala Regia, or great staircase, with its beau- 
tiful perspective, lofty arches, and grand colonnade of pil- 
lars, is a sight to be remembered. 

L had heard so much of the Sistine Chapel, and its marvel- 
lous ceiling painted by Michael Angelo, that I was disap- 
pointed at the general effect on first sight of it, especially from 
its contrast with newer and brighter frescos seen on stair- 
cases and halls before entering this wonderfully decorated 
room. To me it seemed that Angelo's work was much in 
need of a good cleaning. I chanced to be with but a small 
party, with a guide who knew the custodian, and who there- 
fore let us have our own way and time for examining the 
works of the great master. A long table covered with green 
baize, which had been left in the chapel, afforded an oppor- 



184 THE LAST JUDGMENT. 

tunity for examining these celebrated frescos without that 
back-breaking process and the fatigue usually incurred by 
gazing upward for even a cursory inspection. 

Stretched upon my back at full length upon the conven- 
ient table, did I, opera-glass in hand, run over the produc- 
tions of the great artist's twenty-two months' labor. The 
" Creation," " Fall," and " Deluge ; " in the centre the 
prophets and sibyls, " Mockery of Noah," " Israelites in the 
Wilderness," " David and Goliath," angels, cherubs, &c., 
they have all been described again and again ; but notwith- 
standing this, and their dingy appearance, as one looks upon 
this wonderful ceiling, the impression forces itself upon the 
spectator that it is the grand work of a master-hand, espe- 
cially in contemplating the noble figures of the sibyls and 
prophets, and he can but regret that the whole work should 
be in a place so ill contrived for admitting suflBcient light to 
see the artist's work, so grand in conception and wonderful 
in execution. 

That wonderful picture, " The Last Judgment," the re- 
production of which all are so familiar with, was another 
disappointment, for it is faded, blackened, and blurred by 
lamp-smoke, age, and neglect ; and my preparation for the 
original having been obtained from well-executed steel engrav- 
ings, — good, clean, pictorial impressions of the great work, 
— naturally enough led me to think that if it was so grand 
and beautiful in reproduction by the engraver's art, the 
original in colors must be a marvel. It was grand, but a 
disappointment as regards freshness and vividness ; and 
now the question forced itself continually upon my mind of 
how glorious the work must have been when fresh from the 
artist's pencil, and untarnished by smoke and age. 

This great picture extends from floor to ceiling, at the 
upper end of the chapel. In the centre sits the figure rep- 
resenting our Saviour judging the world ; and below, the 
seven angels, sounding their trumpets summoning the dead, 
who are breaking from their graves and shrouds ; and at the 



A GREAT artist's GREAT WORK. 185 

right, the well-remembered group of Charon with his crowded 
bout-load of the damned, whom he is driving overboard, and 
iuto the clutches of expectant demons, by a vigorous appli- 
cation of his paddle. Above, I noted the well-known figures 
of the saints about to receive their glorious reward : St. 
Catherine and her wheel, St. Bartholomew and his skin, St. 
Andrew and his cross, St. Lawrence and his gridiron, &c. ; 
while saints and the righteous with cherubs and angels are 
floating upwards amid clouds to the home of the blessed. 

Dimmed, faded, and its effect destroyed by lack of light 
and the grand altar, the great picture only conveys the im- 
pression to the spectator of what a wonderful collection of 
nude figures, in every possible attitude, and with every 
variety of expression, it must have been in its prime. And, 
with the knowledge that here in this chapel is a great artis- 
tic work that one ought to get up more enthusiasm over, I 
could only feel a sense of gratification that I had an opportu- 
nity of looking upon this, the most perfect result of the great 
artist's long and active life, and celebrated as one of the 
wonders of art in the world, and wishing that it was in per- 
fect condition enough to command enthusiastic admiration. 

But Michael Angelo was indeed a wonderful man, painter, 
sculptor, architect, commander, — industrious as well as 
wonderful ; and it is not surprising his name is so continu- 
ally quoted in connection with art in Italy when it is con- 
sidered how conspicuous a place he occupied during his life 
in its advancement, the monuments that he has left behind 
him, the results of great genius united to incessant applica- 
tion and unflagging industry. Let the visitor, as he stands 
before this great picture, grand even in its decay, remember 
tliat the artist commenced it in his sixtieth year, and toiled 
over it for seven years before it was completed. It is a pic- 
ture that is now more of a subject for artistic study than for 
the admiration of amateurs. 

In order to reach the Museum of Statues I passed through 
a splendid corridor, known as the Corridor of Inscrip- 



186 MUSEUM OF STATUES. 

tions, a great gallery twenty-one hundred and thirty-one 
feet in length, the sides lined with early Pagan and Chris- 
tian epitaphs from sarcophagi. There are hundreds, I be- 
lieve thousands, of these epitaphs of persons in all degrees 
of life, from slave to nobleman, and many of them very 
curious as describing the trade or business of the deceased, 
which it appears in ancient Rome were much the same as 
we have to-day ; and some of the lines to butcher, baker, or 
captain, are in as bad taste as those that disfigure tombstones 
and monuments in our own land to-day. 

A grand hall of sculptures is that called Braccio Nuovo 
(the "New Arm"), built by Pius II. in 18IY, two hundred 
and fifty feet in length, lighted with twelve great skylights, 
and filled with gems of sculpture. This anywhere but in 
Rome would be a museum in itself, and simply as a grand 
.hall constructed for a museum is a splendid specimen of 
architectural taste and elegance. It is divided into numer- 
ous niches, so that statues are set in a series of arches, 
twentj'-eight in number, and then, before the pilasters which 
separate them, are as many busts on pedestals of red gran- 
ite ; other busts on consoles are at the intersections of the 
arches ; and bas-reliefs are placed between the frieze and 
keys of the arches. The floor is elegant mosaic, and the 
light from above is equally and pleasantly distributed. In 
fact, the whole effect is that the objects of sculpture furnish 
the gallery, so perfect is the harmony the one with the other, 
an example to be studied by our modern projectors of muse- 
ums and art collections. 

Now the visitor begins to encounter old acquaintances, 
or, I should say, those that he is familiar with from repro- 
ductions that have found their way to every part of the 
civilized world. Here stands Silenus, adorned with vine- 
leaves and grapes, leaning against a tree, and smilingly re- 
garding the infant Bacchus, whom he holds in his arms ; 
the magnificent statue of the Emperor Augustus, found in 
1863, of heroic size, and interesting as having his cuirass 



THE ATHLETE. 187 

sculptured all over with small bas-reliefs relating- to his 
achievements. The armor and drapery are wonders of 
sculpture. Here is the graceful statue of Ganymede pour- 
ing into the cup the libation for the gods. Then we have 
an exquisitely beautiful figure marked in the catalogue as 
" Diana contemplating Endymion." The sleeping youth, 
however, is wanting, but the graceful and exquisitely 
modelled form of the goddess, in the gentle, bending atti- 
tude that she has assumed, shows plainly enough that he 
should be beneath her loving gaze to complete the group. 
Here stands Euripides, with his broad, intellectual forehead, 
holding his poetic scroll ; and the orator Demosthenes, de- 
claiming against the fickleness of Athenians in refusing to 
listen to him, with indignation and force expressed in every 
line of his face. 

Ah ! tliere, at the head of the hall, rises one of those 
figures that are such splendid specimens of refinement, of 
form, and grace of attitude : the athlete standing in the act 
of cleansing his left arm from perspiration and dust with 
the strigil, a bronze sort of scraper used by the gladiators for 
that purpose. The slender but compact and athletic frame, 
graceful attitude, youthfully beautiful head, flowing hair, 
and the elasticity that seems to pervade the gracefully 
rounded limbs, hold the spectator like a spell. No wonder 
that Tiberius, in response to popular clamor, had to replace 
the original in bronze, taken by him to adorn his palace, at 
the baths of the people, where it had been set up by Agrippa, 
who, as Pliny tells us, brought it from Greece, for it is a 
figure of grace and beauty that commanded their admira- 
tion as it does ours to-day. 

An exquisite figure of Venus rising from the sea, in the 
act of arranging her hair, the lower part of the figure beau- 
tifully draped, deserves more attention in the guide-books 
than it gets ; indeed, the visitor must not depend entirely 
upon guide-books or guides to tell him the best objects of 
art, or he may lose many exquisite productions. 



188 GRAND ARMY OF STATUES. 

The colossal group representing the river Nile consists 
of a huge reclining figure of a man leaning against the 
Sphynx. Sixteen children are clambering over him, while 
one of his hands holds the cornucopia, from which the 
waters have flown, and one little cupid, with folded arms, is 
bubbling out of it. The base, or pedestal, is sculptured all 
over with pigmies combating crocodiles and hippopotami, 
and figures ,of the ibis and lotus flower. This curious group 
was found in the time of Pope Leo X., between the years 
1513 and 1522. 

One of the most conspicuous objects in this museum is a 
grand, full-length statue of Minerva, found among the ruins 
of a temple on the Esquiline Hill, It is in excellent preser- 
vation, and is cut from Parian marble. The goddess is 
crowned with the familiar helmet. Her right hand holds 
her spear, near the butt of which a serpent, emblem of 
vigilance and health, is coiled. A cuirass is seen at the 
right shoulder, beneath the graceful drapery which falls to 
the feet, and the whole figure is inexpressibly grand and 
dignified, as the goddess of wisdom should be. 

I must leave many, msinj beautiful creations of the sculp- 
tor's chisel without a word of comment, as many and many 
abler writers have done before me, for there is a grand army 
of statuary in the other halls awaiting our review : so we 
bestow only a passing glance upon such notable figures as a 
colossal head of a Dacian from Trajan's Forum ; a magnifi- 
cent colossal vase in the Etruscan style ; the central orna- 
ment of the gallery, cut from black Egyptian basalt, adorned 
with leaves, wreaths, grapes, and birds, a splendid piece of 
work which was found on the Quirinal Hill ; a finely sculp- 
tured bust of Marcus Antoninus the Roman triumvir, and 
the enemy of Cicero ; and that of -^milius Lepidus, his 
colleague, both found in a grotto near the Porta Maggiore ; 
a fine figure of Mercury and others ; for, under the guidance 
of an expert valet de place, we find ourselves in the gallery 
known as the Chiaramonti Corridor, receiving its name from 



PKICELESS AKT WEALTH. 189 

Pius VII., that being his family name. The gallery was 
built by another pope, but owes its modern embellishments 
to the latter. Ilere we are staggered by the intelligence 
that there are more than seven hundred sculptures for us to 
inspect, collected from other collections found among ruins 
and purchased by the Pope, the whole arranged by Canova 
in two long rows, and subdivided into thirty sections, each 
lighted by a large window. 

In the Chiaramonti Corridor, and in the midst of the 
Chiaramonti collection, the visitor feels that he is surrounded 
by priceless art wealth ; he has about him portraits of the old 
Roman emperors, orators, aud poets, cut from living models ; 
the columns, statues, and sculptures that decorated the 
niches of pagan temples and the halls and habitations of the 
rich ; the very sacrificial altars upon which offerings were 
made to the gods, with the sculptured story of their mytho- 
logical deeds told in bas-relief upon their base or sides ; 
statues of the gods themselves, such masterpieces of art 
as to invoke art worship in these modern days ; the superb 
sarcophagi with sculptured stories and rich adornments upon 
them, last resting-places for the ashes of the rich, the pro- 
duction of any one of which would require a sum that would 
be a small fortune to many a man to-day. Bas-reliefs ; poetic, 
emblematic, and historic epitaphs and inscriptions, that bring 
us face to face with the times of the Csesars ; and so many 
wonders in artistic sciilpture, that we think if these are but 
the fragments, splinters, and remains of the ancient city, 
what a glorious spectacle it must have presented, with tri- 
umphal arches, statues, temples, and columns, when in its 
prime. 

Here in this corridor I paused to look at two beaiatiful 
recumbent figures representing Autumn and Winter. The 
former was surrounded with the sculptured attributes of the 
season, flowers, grapes, fruits, &c., and was found on the 
Cassian Way. The latter is a recumbent draped figure 
with various sculptured symbols about it. A statue of 



190 TIBERIUS C^SAR. 

Urania, and a beautiful one of Clio in a sitting- posture, 
with scrolls of history at her side, and near by was a statue 
of a priestess found in Hadrian's Villa. The visitor will 
come -to the conclusion, from the number of statues, col- 
umns, and vases found in Hadrian's Villa and at Caracalla's 
Baths, that they were luxurious emperors, and liberal pat- 
rons of the arts, or, to say the least, were very liberal in 
the art decoration of buildings and villas. One can hardly 
realize how beautiful a fragment of sculpture even may be, 
until he sees some of the wonderful torsos hero in Rome. 

A headless and armless statue — said by some to be a 
portion of the figure of Diana, by others Ariadne, but 
enumerated in the catalogue as one of the daughters of 
Niobe — will claim attention in this gallery, and its grace- 
ful drapery especially be recognized as trulj'' artistic. The 
colossal and helmeted bust of Pallas is magnificent, and is 
by some said to be Rome personified in this figure. We 
pass by with a glance at Bacchus with his everlasting grapes 
and vine-leaves ; altars, busts of Jupiter ; Juno and Child, 
found in the Quirinal Gardens ; Hercules resting after his 
labors ; Gladiator killing a lion ; Wrestlers wearing the 
cestus ; two superb statues of Tiberius : one sits holding 
the sceptre and sword in his hand, his breast partly covered 
with a tunic, and his head crowned with a wreath of oak- 
leaves ; the other is also in a sitting position, — a majestic 
figure, clothed in the Roman toga. The papal government 
paid twelve hundi'ed dollars for the purchase of the lat- 
ter, — not a very great price for a grand statue. 

It was in the reign of Tiberius, however, it will be re- 
membered, that Christ was crucified at Jerusalem, and, 
cruel as this Roman emperor was, he did not molest the 
Chi'istians, although he suffered persecution of the Jews to 
be carried on without stint. Although this emperor is 
styled the execrated successor of Augustus, it is of interest 
to look upon these well-preserved and portrait statues of 
the sovereign to whom Pontius Pilate wrote his letters 
respecting our Saviour. 



ART AND BEAUTY. 191 

One of the very best imperial busts known is that in this 
gallery. It is distinguished for its good preservation, the 
whiteness of the marble, and moreover its noble beauty. 
It represents the Emperor Octavius Augustus in his youth, 
probably soon after he came into public life as the avenger 
of his uncle, Julius Ctesar. It is a fine head, although the 
original lives in history as a little lame boy, with weak eyes 
and snuffling speech ; but his craftiness and skill carried 
him through many trying situations successfully to the age 
of sevent3'-five years, and, contrary to the manner of many 
of his successors, he died a natural death in bed, and was 
not murdered. 

A beautiful little statue is that of Cupid in the act of 
bending his bow, called one of the best copies of the origi- 
nal by Praxiteles. This figure was found in fragments, and 
has been most skilfully put together. 

One of the best heads that has come down to us is that 
on the bust of Venus, which is here beside that of Ariadne. 
It is a most elegant and graceful representation of the ideal 
beauty in excellent preservation, and the graceful arrange- 
ment of the hair might be commended to ladies of to-day. 
It was excavated from in front of the Baths of Diocletian, 
in 1804. A beautiful specimen of Greek workmanship, 
found in the year 1^91, and supposed to belong to a rich 
Roman in the time of Nero, is the statue of Silenus, that 
stands in the attitude of presenting with one hand a cup of 
wine towards a panther that is gazing at him, while with 
the other he holds over the animal his crook or staff. The 
Gardens of the Quirinal yielded up a superb colossal bust 
of Isis, which we see here with its ample veil, and neck 
adorned with necklaces made of acorns. It is sculptured 
from Pentelic marble. 

But we will leave behind " Hercules with Ajax in his 
Arms ; " altars to Apollo, Diana, Mars, and Mercury ; Her- 
mes and Bacchus, squeezing grapes in a cup ; the bust of 
Cicero, with its penetrating and caustic expression ; a little 



192 A " MASS OF BEEATHIKG STONE." 

statue of Ulysses with the Phrygian cap on his head ; Ms- 
culapius ; Hercules strangling the serpents ; and other sub- 
jects equally interestiug, as the reader will readily judge 
these are, from their very names ; for, like the object of 
Macbeth's ambition, " the greatest is behind." New won- 
ders are to come, so we ascend elegant marble steps, and 
find ourselves in that important part of the Vatican known 
as the Pio Clementino Museum. Tliis large building, 
erected by the Popes Julius II., Innocent VIII., Paul III., 
and Leo X., and enlarged by Clement XIV. and Pius VI, by 
the addition of various galleries, is affirmed to be the most 
magnificent gallery of ancient sculpture in existence. It is 
indebted to the munificence of Pius VI., according to Mur- 
ray, for more than two thousand specimens. 

The square vestibule is called the Vestibule of the Belve- 
dere, from the beautiful view it commands of Rome, and in 
the middle of the vestibule is that splendid relic of anti- 
quity known as the Torso Belvedere, This is a colossal 
fragment, a mutilated statue in Greek marble, of herculean 
proportions. The head, upper part of the breast, both arms 
to the shoulders, and both the legs below the knees, are 
gone, and yet such is the correctness of representation in 
every anatomical detail of this mere trunk of man, so won- 
derfully is it finished, that it may well be called, as by the 
poet Rogers, a "mass of breathing stone." 

That it is a wonderful work of sculpture has been attested 
by so many masters of the art, that those who see in it 
nothing but a mutilated fragment must remember that the 
skilled and practised eye of the sculptor sees the beauties 
of his art even in this fragment of work. And when one 
comes to give it a close and critical examination, he will 
find that the curves, roundings, wrinkles, and depressions 
of actual flesh are so wonderfully and perfectly moulded, 
that it appears as if the artist must have shaped it like clay 
in plastic form, rather than with the more laborious chisel 
which he had to employ on the brittle marble. The actual 



"reading up." 193 

flesh-like appearance of belly, lower breast, and hips, in 
fact all that part of the trunk remaining, is so striking, that 
I looked on this old fragment from the chisel of ApoUonius, 
son of Nestor of Athens, found near Pompey's Theatre, 
with increased interest, as I recalled the grand proportions 
of some of Michael Angelo's nude figures ; for I remem- 
bered the great sculptor and painter declared that to it he 
was indebted for his instruction in representing the human 
figure. And in his old age the great artist used to be led 
up to it, that he might pass his hands over it and enjoy, in 
the sense of touching, the fine proportions and lines of 
beauty that were denied his sight. 

To bo sure, the " reading up " of some of these great 
works of art in the world surrounds them with a halo of 
poetical interest ; otherwise I might perhaps have looked 
upon this as did a companion, — a quite well-informed per- 
son in many things, — who begged I would "come along, 
and not waste so much time over an old smashed statue, 
when there were so many perfect ones to be looked at." 

Speaking of reading, almost every schoolboy who has 
read of Rome has read the story of Scipio Africanus and 
his battles with Hannibal. It was he, it will be remem- 
bered, who "carried the war into Africa," two hundred 
years before Christ. It is therefore interesting to those 
who have an antiquarian turn of mind, to look upon the 
sarcophagus that once held the mortal remains of the great- 
grandfather of this celebrated Roman general, who was 
consul under the republic, b, c. 298, and, as the inscription 
upon his stone coffin tells, a noble general himself, showing 
that Scipio came of good stock. This inscription, which is 
of the most ancient Latin handed down to us, and which 
the guide-books give in the original, they, as usual, all neg- 
lect to give an English translation of for the benefit of the 
unlettered. Here is a translation : 

" Cornelius Scipio Barbatus, born of a brave father ; a 
courageous and prudent man, whose prudence equalled his 
13 



194 SARCOPHAGI OF THE SCIPIOS. 

beauty. He has been among you consul, censor, sedile ; he 
took Taurasia, Cisanna, and Samnium ; having subjugated 
all Lucania, he brought away from it hostages." 

When the sarcophagus of this gallant old general was 
opened in 1781, two thousand years after his death, his 
skeleton was found entire, and upon one of his bony fingers 
a ring, which is still in existence, in the collection of an- 
tiques of an English nobleman. The sarcophagus is a 
great, square, ash-colored, stone structure of albano stone, 
cut in Doric style, and familiar from the many reproductions 
and pictorial representations of it that have been made. It 
is one of the most interesting authenticated relics of Re- 
publican Rome. The tomb of the Scipio family, from which 
this sarcophagus was taken, was discovered near the Ap- 
pian Way in IT 80, and, besides this, the coflBns of the 
grandfather and son of Scipio Africanus. The latter was 
buried at Liternum, where he died, causing to be inscribed 
on his tomb, " Ungrateful country, thou shalt not have my 
bones." 

This Clementine Museum, the vestibule of which we have 
just entered, contains some of the most splendid apartments 
in the Vatican. Among them are the Hall of Animals, the 
Hall of the Biga or Chariot, the Gallery of the Muses, the 
Circular Hall, the Hall of the Greek Cross, the Grand Stair- 
case, and the Cortile of the Belvedere. The last-mentioned 
is a large space in form of an octagon, surrounded by an 
ornamental open portico. In the centre of the space is a 
fountain, and a'cund about it are various curious sarcophagi 
and vases, which we pass for the grander works in the four 
cabinets inside the portico. 

The first that commands attention is the cabinet of Ca- 
nova, containing the two striking (no pun intended) statues 
by Canova of the Syracusan boxers, Creugas and Damox- 
enus, two life-like figures opposed to each other in combat, 
and, as any member of " the fancy " would say, in anything 
but a scientific attitude. One stands with his rig-ht arm 



THE BOXERS. 195 

raised, leaving his side wholly unprotected, at which his 
antagonist, who has brute force and violence expressed in 
every line of his countenance, appears to be aiming a blow 
with the ends of the fingers of his open, extended hand, — 
a straightforward thrust. 

" A foul, foolish way of striking for the one, and a stupid 
oversight of the other to leave his side unguarded," said 
an American near me, who was regarding the group. " I 
wonder if that was the style of the old Roman boxers ? " 

Probably not ; for, as the story runs, the one who raised 
his arm agreed to present his side unguarded for a blow 
from his adversary, who, disregarding the laws prescribed 
in the games, struck forth with his fingers, piercing be- 
tween his adversary's ribs, and killing him on the spot. 

The two figures are admirably executed in all anatomical 
details, but have that expression of the coarse, brutal force 
of a pugilist, rather than that of a noble-minded athlete, as 
seen in the older statues. 

Near these stands Perseus with the head of Medusa, an 
exquisite piece of Canova's work. The figure holds the 
sword in one hand and the Medusa head in the other, and 
the mantle falls down in such graceful and natural folds 
from the shoulders to the feet, as to almost cheat the spec- 
tator into the belief that it is really folds of linen thrown 
upon the statue. 

That beautiful statiie called the Mercury of the Belvedere, 
or the Belvedere Antinous, is an image of blooming youth 
that is absolutely faultless in its execution. The longer you 
gaze the more its exquisite proportions grow upon you, and 
it seems as handsome as a blooming, jj-outhful male figure 
can possibly be without being a woman. Perfectly sym- 
metrical in all its proportions, with calm, thoughtful fea- 
tures, yet those of youth and beauty, with round and appar- 
ently elastic limbs, well-balanced head, and drapery thrown 
over the left shoulder, the figure stands the perfection 
of the sculptor's art. It was discovered near the Baths of 



196 THE LAOCOON. 

Titus, on the Esqniline Hill, in the year 1TY9, and is sculp- 
tured in Parian marble. 

We now come to the cabinet containing* that wonderful 
group, the Laocoon, — a group so familiar to all the world 
from its representation in every picture-book of Eome, 
child's histories, and plaster reproductions in art g-alleries, 
and even paintings. A group so well known to you as this 
can hardly excite much enthusiasm, jou. think. But wait 
till you see this, the original, and you will find, like all the 
great wonders of ancient statuary, the originals are really 
inimitable, — they cannot be successfully copied. You 
seem to see the beauties, the grandeur, the story, in marble, 
the poetry of the sculptor that you have heard, read, and 
studied, and tried to appreciate when looking at copies, now 
for the first time, as you gaze upon the great original. 

And an enjoyment it is to gaze upon the very statue 
described by Pliny as standing in the palace of the Emperor 
Titus, sculptured from a single block of mai-ble. Yes, here 
was a group of statuary described by an historian not half 
a century after the death of the Saviour, which was taken 
from the ruins fourteen hundred and fifty years afterwards 
at the very place in which he had located it ; for it was dug 
out of the ruins of the palace of the conqueror of Jerusa- 
lem in 1506, This grand group must of course have been 
a perfectly ideal one, for the sculptors could have had no 
model representing men in the folds of enormous snakes, 
nor the convulsions of their bodies while in the agony of 
those terrible coils ; and yet the highest authorities of each 
succeeding generation pronounce them perfect in all ana- 
tomical details, and the agony of expression all that the 
most careful study of features, aided by powerful imagina- 
tion on the part of the artist, could accomplish. The artists 
had in their mind the perpetuation of a great event in the, 
to them, divine history of the gods, — the punishment of a 
priest of Apollo and his sons at the very altar by the god's 
messengers of wrath, the serpents. 



A STORY l?f MARBLE. 197 

Laocoon, as the story goes, was engaged in offering a 
sacrifice to Neptune, when Apollo sent two enormous ser- 
pents from the island of Tenedos, to destroy him. Ilast- 
ening through the sea, they seized upon the priest and 
his sons upon the very steps of the altar, and destroyed 
them, and by their death decided the fate of Troy ; for it 
was Laocoon, it will be remembered, who warned the Trojans 
against the great wooden horse left behind by the Greeks 
after their apparent retreat, and, his death being considered 
divine judgment, his advice was unheeded, a breach made 
in the wall for the admission of the Grecian image, and the 
result Avas Troy's ruin. 

I need not describe the group, — the magnificent figure 
of the father falling back upon the altar, his superb head 
and the features upon which the excess of agony is visible, 
the thorough anatomical study that is visible in every detail 
in the whole group, the contrast of action of the elder to 
that of the more youthful figures, the management of the 
serpents, whose coils, although they inclose the whole 
group, are so arranged by the sculptor that they shall in no 
way mar the proportions of the figures or conceal any of 
their beauties. 

It is a story in marble that you may study for hours; it is 
a conception the ingenuity of which you may wonder at ; 
it is a work, the laborious care and skill of execution of 
which may well fill you with wonder and astonishment, and 
one respecting which many have agreed with Michael Angelo, 
who at the time of its discovery pronounced it to be a 
miracle of art. A more modern critic, George S. Hillard, 
an American classical scholar and author, very truly says, 
" It stands upon the very line by which the art of sculpture 
is divided from poetry and painting," and " is one of those 
productions that would have been pronounced impossible 
had they never been executed." 

One wonder follows on another's heels, and too fast they 
follow, too, for real enjoyment in these four chapels of art, 



198 THE APOLLO BELYEDEEE. 

for the art lover who for the first time pays his devotions 
in each. If he does it, as nearly all do, at one visit, he 
must indeed feed to very gluttony on art ; for either one of 
these, it seems to me, ought to be enjoyed by separate 
visits ; but it i^ these great wonders of art, like many other 
European sights, must be enjoyed as we have opportunity. 
So we must thrust aside for the time being all our thoughts 
and contemplations of the Laocoon for that noblest embodi- 
ment of a god in marble — the Apollo Belvedere. 

There he stands in the well-known and graceful attitude,- 
his face one of noble and god-like beauty, the pose of the 
graceful head with its luxurious and flowing ringlets indeed 
like that of a god^ the lofty brow noble and intellectual, 
and the graceful drapery over the left arm just sufficient to 
relieve the slender but beautifully rounded figure, radiant 
with youthful beauty. It is a statue that is simple, grand, 
and fascinating ; its grace, lightness, and animation go to 
every heart ; and this statue is also one that we find we have 
hardly had a correct idea of until now gazing upon the 
original, for the reason that, on looking at the original, the 
inferiority of copies is appreciated. 

There seems to be a controversy among antiquaries and 
critics respecting the Apollo Belvedere statue. The gener- 
ally accepted theory was, and still is with many, that the 
god is represented as just having discharged a shaft from his 
" unerring bow " at the serpent Python, with fatal effect. 
Byron, in " Childe Harold," calls him " Lord of the un- 
erring bow," and says : 

" The shaft has just been shot . . . 
With an immortal's vengeance." 

Another poet, Henry Hart Milman, adopts the same ex- 
planation in his perfect description of this elegant statue in 
the following lines : 

" Bright kindling with a conqueror's stern delight, 
His keen eye tracks the arrow's fateful flight ; 



"lord of the unerring bow." 199 

Burns his indignant cheek with vengeful fire, 
And his lip quivers with insulting ire ; 
Firm fixed his tread, yet light as when on high 
He walked tlie impalpable and pathless sky ; 
The rich luxuriance of his hair, confined 
In graceful ringlets, wantons in the wind 
That lifts in sport his mantle's drooping fold. 
Proud to display that form of faultless mould." 

The restorations of the right forearm and left hand were 
made in accordance with this theory of the statue represent- 
ing the god standing in the position as just having discharged 
the arrow at Python ; but it seems that the discovery of a 
statuette in all points similar to that of the Apollo Belve- 
dere, and evidently copied from the same original, shows 
that the original did not bold the bow in his hand, but the 
£egis or shield of Jupiter, made for him by Vulcan, bearing 
upon its front the head of Medusa, and used for putting to 
flight a fatal enemy. The aegis bearing Medusa's head was 
symbol of storm and tempest, and was lent to Apollo, ac- 
cording to Homer's Iliad, and with it he drove back the 
hosts of the Achaians. Hence it is decided by some author- 
ities that the extended left arm (restored) bore the terrify- 
ing shield, and that by the same reason the left hand, also 
a restoration, is not in correct position. 

It is unpleasant to have all our early dreams and the idols 
of our imagination thus rudely shattered, and, notwith- 
standing the antiquarian research which places a shield upon 
the arm instead of a bow in the hand, I still hold that as 
" lord of the unerring bow " the statue better fills out one's 
idea of the true representation of the god. This grand 
work of art, supposed to have been executed in the time of 
Nero, was discovered near Antium in 1503, and was among 
the earliest specimens of ancient sculpture placed in the 
Vatican, forming, in fact, a nucleus around which a large 
portion of the present collection of the gallery of statues 
has gathered. 

Around, in the vicinity of this court of the Belvedere, are 



200 A MENAGEKIE IN MAEBLE. 

several magnificent specimens of huge bathing-tubs cut from 
elegant red porphyry, red granite, or porphyry and black 
basalt. These great tubs are huge in size, but elegantly 
sculptured, susceptible of, and have a polish on them like 
glass, and were found at the Baths of Caracalla ; and, with 
their sculptured lions' heads, rings cut from the solid stone, 
and excellent workmanship, are as striking specimens of the 
luxury of their time and evidence of the abundance of 
skilled labor in those days as can be produced ; for the labor 
upon them must have been enormous, and the skill required 
to produce the artistic effect, displayed even in these com- 
paratively common objects, is of no common order, as can 
easily be seen by the visitor. 

In the hall, in the immediate vicinity of the Apollo Bel- 
vedere, stands a statue larger than life of Hygieia, with the 
symbolic serpent about her arm, and cup in hand. This 
figure will sti'ike every person who has ever seen the 
Zenobia of the American sculptor. Miss Hosmer, by its 
many points of resemblance, and suggests the thought that 
the artist of the latter figure may have used this as a study. 

From these art chapels, where we have been paying our 
homage to the grand art models of the world, we pass on to 
what might perhaps be denominated a menagerie in marble, 
■which is known as the Hall of Animals, and is the rarest 
and finest collection of animals in Greek and Roman sculp- 
tui*e in existence. Having passed two colossal dogs that 
guard the entrance, we find an inlaid pavement, black and 
white pilasters of Egyptian granite, and rich and beautiful 
marbles and mosaics attracting the gaze. 

Of what is before us we can take but a passing glance. 
The two greyhounds playing together, a graceful group ; the 
Hercules dragging away the Nemsean lion ; a fine statue of 
Commodus on horseback ; a beautiful group, well preserved, 
of a shepherd sleeping, with his goats grazing about him ; 
beautiful group of a stag attacked by a dog. But I shall 
only be re-enumerating a catalogue to go on ; suffice it to 



THE HALL OF STATUES. 201 

say that there is sufficient of the curious as well as the ar- 
tistic work of the sculptor's chisel to make one long- to give 
more time than the author could devote to it. I remember 
among other objects an admirably sculptured goose in a per- 
fectly natural attitude, showing that the sculptor had studied 
the habits of the bird of the Capitol ; a toad in antique red 
marble, and a lobster in green, looking very like a real one ; 
magnificent lions, a panther in striped marble, and a superb 
tiger in Egyptian granite ; a huge lion in gray marble, the 
very king of beasts himself; and to my astonishment a cow, 
sculptured from brown marble, an admirably executed figure, 
too ; and a sow surrounded by twelve pigs. 

You are astonished at the fidelity of execution and the 
life and grace that seem to be put into the stony repre- 
sentations of animals who would seem to be out of the pale 
of art, be it rhinoceros' or camel's heads, baboon, or even a 
hedgehog, rats and crabs, for they are all here. 

The Hall of Statues, so called, is a magnificent gallery 
richly decorated, and the pavement inlaid with beautiful 
marbles of different colors. Great marble pilasters with 
Ionic capitals of white marble support grand arclies and 
superbly decorated vaults and ceiling. The hall is a long 
gallery with walls of marble, a wondrous decoration above, 
and a double line of great masterpieces of art on either side 
for the visitor to inspect, and directly in the middle of the 
hall a superb bath of Oriental alabaster. 

In this hall stands the statue of Clodius Albinus, the col- 
league, but afterwards the opponent of Septimius Severus. 
The armor of this figure is sculptured with dancing figures, 
and the statue itself stands upon a pedestal upon which is 
inscribed that it marked where Caius Csesar's remains were 
burned. A sitting figure of Paris, larger than life, I halted 
to examine, because the names of the artisans of the im- 
perial mint, who in the time of Trajan dedicated it to Her- 
cules, are sculptui'ed upon one side of the pedestal, to the 
number of more than sixty in all. 



202 NERO AS APOLLO ! 

Here you will see a specimen of the supposed original 
work of Praxiteles, which is therefore, I suppose, denomi- 
nated in the guide-books as the Genius of the Vatican. It 
is the half figure of a Cupid in Parian marble, the wings 
gone, but the place at the shoulders where they were fast- 
ened distinctly visible. The statue was brought from 
Greece by Caligula, and is spoken of by Pliny as having 
been admired in the portico of Octavia. It was discovered 
by Gavin Hamilton, a Scotch painter, in the Via Labicana. 
It is a figure of most exquisite expression, and the head 
especially a marvellously beautiful piece of sculpture. 

If the visitor undertakes to examine and study all the 
sculptures in this gallery carefully, he will find that he has 
no light task before him ; nor can the author undertake to 
enumerate even the most distinguished. 

The celebrated statue of Ariadne, daughter of Minos, 
lying upon the rock on the sea-shore of Naxos, after being 
abandoned by her unfaithful lover, is another story in mar- 
ble. The countenance displays grief and despondency even 
in sleep; the head resting upon one arm, and the other 
thrown above it, the graceful folds of drapery over the 
lower limbs, and the tunic that has partly dropped from the 
left shoulder revealing the beautiful bosom, — are details 
wrought out in the marble with such faithfulness and exqui- 
site skill that I cannot resist referring to this beautiful 
statue. 

Nor can I pass unmentioned a sitting figure of Nero as 
Apollo (heaven save the mark !) He is represented as 
crowned with laurel and playing on the lyre, and the statue 
is one of the few that escaped the destruction ordered by 
the senate and the outraged Roman people. 

This Gallery of Statues and the Hall of Busts are, as it 
were, all one collection, and divided only by an archway, 
the latter being a continuation of the former. On each side 
of this archway sat two grand figures in easy attitudes, as 
if resting themselves in their senatorial chairs after having 



HALL OF THE MUSES. 203 

delivered an oration. Supposing they must have been great 
orators or emperors, I consulted my catalogue to find that 
they were Posidippus and Menander, two Greek poets, or 
rather masters of Greek comedy, supposed to be the original 
works of Cephisodotus, son of Praxiteles. They are both in 
excellent preservation, and fine specimens of portrait statues. 

A specimen of the oldest and best style of Greek sculp- 
ture is a colossal sitting statue of Jupiter, represented hold- 
ing his thundei-bolts and sceptre, and with the eagle at his 
feet. This was one of the first sculptures placed in the Hall 
of Busts, and is one of the best in it. Portrait busts in 
abundance we must pass with a glance, such as that of 
Hadrian, found at Tivoli ; the best known bust of Caracalla ; 
a beautiful head of Isis crowned with diadem and lotus 
flower ; a beautiful helmeted head called Menelaus, the helmet 
adorned with sculptured representations of the combats of 
Hercules and the Centaurs. This portion of the Gallery of 
Statues, known as the Hall of Busts, although a small part 
of the museum, is rich in likenesses, and is really quite an 
important and interesting one in an historical or mythological 
point of view. 

Out from the Hall of Animals I strolled into another, — 
Sala delle lluse, Hall of the Muse, — an octagonal hall en- 
riched by sixteen Corinthian columns of gray Carrara marble 
brought from Hadrian's Villa, and paved with rich ara- 
besques and mosaics. What a beautiful room this seemed, 
the very chosen home of art, — the softened light streaming 
down from above, its large dome decorated with elegant fres- 
cos appropriate for the place, such as paintings of Homer 
singing his poem and Minerva listening in the clouds above, 
Apollo and the Muses ; Tasso, Virgil, and other poets. 

Besides myself, there chanced to be but two other visitors 
whom I could see, and they were standing motionless in mute 
admiration of the noble and graceful figure of Melpomene, 
one of the best of the statues of the Muses, from which this 
chamber takes its name. 



204 THE MUSES IN MARBLE. 

Standing, poniard and mask in hand, with her loose 
h£|,ir intermingled with grapes, a grave expression of counte- 
nance, and beautifully sculptured drapery, the figure was 
one with so many lines of beauty visible, that it is worth 
more study than we could give it, for here were her sisters, 
also, to claim our notice : Thalia, seated with her sandalled 
feet peeping from beneath her robe, and her head crowned 
with ivy ; Terpsichore, with her ivy crown and musical lyre ; 
Calliope, which some consider the finest of the whole, seated 
in meditative attitude upon a rock with tablets in hand, and 
drapery so perfect as to make that portion of the sculp- 
tor's work absolutely faultless — artistic perfection; Clio, 
crowned with laurel, with scroll of papyrus across her 
knees ; Urania, globe and stylus in hand ; Polyhymnia, 
with head wreathed with roses, and the rich folds of her 
mantle falling to her feet ; Erato, with tortoise-shell lyre ; 
— all these beautiful figures sculptured elegantly in marble, 
and, with the exception of Urania and Erato, I think, were 
discovered at the rustic villa of Cassius, in Tivoli, in 1114. 

Here is a fine statue of Silenus clothed in a tiger-skin, and 
squeezing a bunch of grapes into a cup, a sort of primitive 
wine-making that has been improved upon. Then there was 
a bust with such a Silenus cast of countenance that one 
might well take it for a head of the foster-father of Bacchus, 
had not the Greek sculptor taken care to have cut the name 
of Socrates upon it. We are reminded, however, that 
although Socrates was the greatest philosopher of his age, 
he was one of the ugliest-looking men of his time. This 
may be comforting to those remarkably plain-looking people 
of our own day, who are generally most enthusiastic in 
praising the beauties of the mind. 

Then there was old Diogenes, like many people nowadays, 
whose rude manners were endured on account of his smart 
saj'ings. While I was looking at the statue of Lycurgus, 
the Spartan legislator, who stands pointing to his eye de- 
stroyed by a passionate youth in one of the tumults which 



A SUSPECTED CHARACTEK. 205 

his reforms excited, and remembering that I had studied the 
story that this bearded old law-maker had abolished gold and 
silver currency, and substituted iron in its stead, I remem- 
bered that we did not erect statues in America to those who 
compelled us to use substitutes for gold and silver, but were 
more inclined to immortalize those who should restore to 
us the metallic circulating medium. 

These meditations were interrupted, however, by the oflS- 
cial whose duty it was to warn us that the time had arrived 
to move on, as the museum was to close, and who seemed 
to have an Italian suspicion that the pencilled notes grasped 
in my hand were some species of illegal memoranda tiiat 
laid me open to suspicion ; whereupon a sharp discussion 
ensued between that functionary and my valet de j^if^ce, 
which was ended satisfactorily, as I had " taken no draw- 
ings," and gratefully on the part of the custodian, who was 
now getting better acquainted with us, as he pocketed a 
franc pour boire. 

Are we never to get through with this museum of statues, 
this wilderness of marble ? Verily, I thought so myself, as 
1 sauntered among them day after day, hour after hour, 
and almost guiltily felt that I had passed by many serried 
rows without even a glance, in order to see those which 
none could afford to miss. So, when I stood in the rotunda, 
or circular hall of the Vatican, " Sala Rotonda " they call 
it, I found that this was one of those halls that should on no 
account be omitted. 

The architect who built this beautiful hall took his idea 
for its form from the dome of the Parthenon, and it seems 
as if built especially to receive its grand central ornament, 
a magnificent cup of red porphyry, forty-six feet in circum- 
ference, found in the Baths of Diocletian. This cup or vase, 
which looks like a great card-receiver, is so beautj/ully 
polished as to seem partly filled with water. One can but 
reflect what an enormous amount of time and labor, to say 
nothing of skill, must have been expended on this vase, 



206 SALA EOTONDA. 

since, even if it could be reproduced to-day, it would not 
pay to do it, the expense would be so great. It stands 
upon the largest and most beautiful mosaic known, which 
was found at Otricoli in nSO. It is a series of concentric 
bands, representing combats of centaurs, water-nymphs, 
tritons, and sea-monsters, and beautiful wreaths of flowers, 
with a grand head of Medusa in the centre. The outside 
border of the passage around the hall is in black-and-white 
ancient mosaic, representing scenes in the life of Ulysses, 
Neptune and his sea-horses, and other mythological monsters. 

The cupola of this beautifiil hall is upheld by ten fluted 
pilasters of Carrara marble, between each two of which are 
niches to hold the large statues ; and before each pilaster 
are red marble brackets for the busts, which, with the ele- 
gant gilding and ornamental wall-painting, combine to 
render this an appropriate and rich casket for the gems it 
contains. 

The principal attraction is the colossal bronze statue of 
Hercules, twelve feet in height, which was discovered in 
1864, hidden in a marble case, while digging to repair the 
foundation of a palace that now stands where once stood 
the Theatre of Pompey. The statue represents Hercules 
leaning upon his club, with a lion's skin thrown over his 
left arm. In one hand he holds the Hesperidian fruit, and 
the whole form exhibits the strength which the demigod was 
said to possess. 

Another colossal statue of note is that of Antinous, with 
ringlets flowing down over neck and shoulders, and head 
crowned with flowers. Then there is the colossal head of 
Hadrian, found in his mau«'oleum, now the Castle of St. 
Angelo (which has already beendescribed), and supposed to 
have belonged to a colossal statue of the emperor. The 
Juno, Barberini, which stands in another of the ten arches 
of this rotunda, is a superb colossal statue, and said to be 
one of the most perfect specimens of antique sculpture in 
existence. Of course it is " said to be," or " supposed to 



HALL OF THE GREEK CROSS. 207 

be," a fine copy of a similar work by Praxiteles. He and 
Phidias were probably quoted by the Roman and Grecian 
critics of sculpture, as Garrick and Cooke are to-day by our 
modern theatrical scribblers. The noble expression of the 
face of this statue is that of a goddess, its finish admirable, 
its arrangement of drapery and whole execution grand, and 
all artists recognize in it a masterpiece in marble. 

I cannot leave the rotunda without a word respecting the 
beautiful colossal sitting statue of the first good Roman 
emperor, Nerva, who had no claim for that rank but a good 
character and correct life, something rare in those who 
aspired to be emperors in his day. This statue is one of 
the real treasures of antiquity preserved in the Vatican, and 
represents Nerva with majestic countenance, characterized 
by force and dignity. The upper part of the body is bare 
and the head crowned with a bronze wreath of oak-leaves. 
Merivale, in his " History of the Romans under the Empire," 
says this statue embodies "the highest ideal of the Roman 
magnate, the finished warrior, statesman, and gentleman of 
an age of varied training and wide practical experience ; " 
and " if we really contemplate his likeness in the noble 
figure in the Vatican, we may fairly say of the prince, as the 
historian afiirms of the general, ' You might easily deem him 
good, you would willingly believe him great.' " 

As the hall of the rotunda was specially designed for its 
contents, so in a measure was that known as the Hall of the 
Greek Cross, so called from its shape, it being divided into 
four compartments. It was constructed more especially for 
the two enormous sarcophagi of red Egyptian porphyry 
placed respectively in the right and left arms or compart- 
ments of the cross. This porphyry, so hard to cut, is sus- 
ceptible of a high polish, and the sarcophagus of it here, 
which was taken from a mausoleum of the daughter of Con- 
staiitine the Great, gleams like a purplish-red carnelian, and 
is indeed a colossal gem. It is ornamented with bas-reliefs 
of Cupids gathering and pressing grapes, and figures of 



208 MAGNIFICENT MOSAIC PAVEMENT. 

sheep, birds, festoons, and arabesques. This costly coflSn 
once held the remains of the daughter of Constantino, who 
died A. B. 354. 

The other sarcophagus, opposite, is still larger, and is said 
to have occupied the constant labor of twenty-five sculptors 
for nine yeai's, who worked diligently by orders of the 
Emperor Constantino to make a costly casket, worthy as a 
receptacle for the remains of his mother. It is sculptured 
with her portrait bust, and with equestrian figures and rep- 
resentations of the triumphs of the emperor ; and, besides 
being a monument to her whose ashes it held, is one of 
patient industry and enormous labor, and, like some of the 
great porphyry vases, when the present money value of 
labor, even in those countries where it is cheapest, is taken 
into consideration, the result to be obtained now upon such 
a work would not warrant its being undertaken. 

In the middle of this Hall of the Greek Cross is a magnifi- 
cent specimen of mosaic pavement, in circular form, and 
inclosed by a railing to protect it from the profane tread of 
the moderns. It was discovered in the Villa of Cicero in 
1741. It is a set of circles, festoons, and symbolic figures, 
and among others is a beautiful representation of a bust of 
Minerva, with the head of Medusa on the breast, helmet, 
and shield. On a portion of one of the rings of mosaic were 
various phases of the moon represented, also planets, tragic 
and comic masks, &c., all in beautiful and quite fresh colors. 
lu this hall is the half-draped statue of Augustus, which is 
remarkable for the likeness it bears to the first Napoleon, 
and perhaps may have led him to think he really bore re- 
semblance to some of the Csesars in look as well as military 
achievements. 

In this hall I was halted by the guide to view what was 
called the Venus of Cnidos, a statue somewhat larger than 
life, and said to be the most perfect copy known of the 
Cnidian Venus of Praxiteles, which was lost in a fire at 
Byzantium at the close of the fourth century. It is really 



HALL OF THE CHARIOT. 209 

a majestic and lovely figure, but is marred, in my opinion, 
by a bronze drapery which covers the lower limbs. 

We leave this hall and its wonders behind as we ascend 
to the Sala delta Biga, or Hall of the Chariot, a splendid 
hall, octagonal in form ; dome modelled after style of the 
Pantheon, and supported by eight fluted columns with Co- 
rinthian capitals. The pavement of this hall is elegantly 
inlaid with different specimens of rich marble, in which 
appear tlie family arms of Pius VI., who erected it especially 
to receive the ancient Biga, or two-wheeled chariot, from 
which it takes its name. The original of this beautiful 
restoration in marble — for it is mainly a restoration of an 
ancient Grecian chariot and horses — once stood in some 
temple dedicated to the sun, and it is really a magnificent 
work of art. Only the body of the chariot and a portion 
of one of the horses are ancient, but its skilful restoration 
gives us doubtless a correct idea of the antique Grecian and 
Roman chariot. 

The body of the chariot was used for a long time as an 
episcopal throne in the Church of St. Mark in Rome. It is 
beautifully carved with foliage, arabesques, and scroll work. 
So is the pole, which terminates in a ram's head, and the 
wheels, of which lions' heads form the hubs ; the horses are 
in spirited action, poised upon their hind legs ; and all that 
is wanted is the Roman charioteer, leaning forward, reins in 
hand, and standing beside him, with shield advanced on left 
arm, and javelin raised on high for deadly cast, the helmet- 
crowned soldier of the Roman legion. 

Notwithstanding the romance thrown around the war- 
chariots by the old poets and painters, and beautiful as they 
look in sculpture, they must have been terribly inconvenient 
and uncomfortable vehicles in reality, the body resting as 
it did directly upon the heavy axle without the intervention 
of springs, with a stiff, immovable, and clumsy pole. They 
must also have been exceedingly dangerous to have ridden 
in, in battle, from their liability to upset, and the effort 
14 



210 THE QFOIT-THEOWERS. 

necessary ou the part of the occupants to keep upright 
during their terrible jolting. It is probable that chariots in 
battle may have existed more in the active imaginations of 
poets and historians than in reality, for it would certainly 
seem safer for a soldier to fight on foot than in one of these 
clumsily contrived vehicles. 

The visitor may study charioteer as well as chariot here, 
for not far distant stands a beautiful statue of a Roman 
charioteer of the circus, dressed in costume, his body 
adorned with corselet and bands, his left hand grasping the 
reins, and his right bearing the palm-branch of victory won 
in the race. Upon a sarcophagus here is represented a 
chariot-race in bas-relief — that of Pelops and King Ono- 
maus, described in the tragedies of Sophocles and Euripides. 

Ah ! Here is an old familiar friend, — familiar from the 
many times we have seen him, interesting as an illustrator 
of the athletic games of the Greeks and Romans, — Disco- 
bolus, or the quoit-thrower, in the act of hurling the discus 
or quoit ; giving us in his attitude the manner in which the 
quoit was held, and one of the positions taken by the play- 
ers in throwing it. This figure, so full of life and action, 
was discovered in 1781, and is so well known as not to 
require description ; as is also its companion, the Discobolus 
in Repose, which is a far more beautiful statue, as it stands 
in its simple, natural attitude, with the right foot thrown 
forward, the left hand holding the discus carelessly at the 
side, the right hand slightly extended, ready to receive the 
disc that he shall soon transfer to it, and as though half 
pointing to or indicating a position to be taken by the player, 
who appears to be thoughtfully regarding the ground before 
him. This beautiful statue, the reproductions of which are so 
frequently seen in our public galleries, or the halls and libra- 
ries of private dwellings, is in excellent preservation, and 
one of that exquisite beauty of style which insensibly claims 
your admiration to such a degree that you linger long be- 
fore it and hesitate to leave for other attractions. 



THE FATIGUE OF SIGHT SEEING. 211 

But go we must, and hardly pause even to look at a 
noble statue of that old Athenian general and philosopher, 
Phucion, with helmeted head and simple and beautifully 
executed drapery. Go we must, for we were desirous of 
change, a rest from statues and sculpture. 

It must not be supposed, however, that these descriptions 
are the result of consecutive visits to the Vatican, for, 
sliould the tourist or visitor commence such an undertaking 
with the determination of seeing the whole contents thor- 
oughly, he would not only soon find pleasure become labor, 
and labor exhaustion and satiety, but would despair of car- 
rying out any such idea. Description is given in these 
pages, of the Vatican collection as a whole, for convenience' 
sake, though repeated visits to it, made at intervals, the 
intervals being occupied by excursions to other sights of 
entirely different character, enable the visitor the better to 
enjoy and appreciate what he sees of it. I say what he 
sees of it, for it appeared to me that no one, unless he lived 
a dozen years in Kome, and devoted himself entirely to 
that object, could accomplish it. Looking, gazing, walking, 
wandering through galleries, is terribly fatiguing Avork, and 
after a while your critical examination, noting in note-book 
or storing away in memory, becomes so much like a i"egular 
task, that you are wont to ask yourself, And is this travel- 
ling for pleasure ? Is this leisure, or is it severe labor ? 
Your aching limbs and tired brain at night are apt to incline 
you often to the latter opinion. But it is after one's return 
homo that much of the real enjoyment comes in the recol- 
lection of what has been seen, refreshed by notes, photo- 
graphs, and other mementos of the journey. Then history 
becomes doubly interesting, and the art treasures of the old 
world are invested with a charm not known before. 

I confess to looking forward to the Etruscan Museum, or 
Collection of Etruscan Antiquities, with pleasurable antici- 
pation, but feared exhaustion from other sight-seeing before 
I miglit be able to reach it. Much as we may be interested 



212 THE ETRUSCAN MUSEUM. 

ill the ancient Roman antiquities, it is something' still more 
interesting to pass from galleries in which they are pre- 
served, into others containing those of a nation that was in 
existence anterior to the foundation of Rome, a country 
which embraced almost the whole of Italy, before Romulus 
and Remus had fixed the site for their city, 

Dionysius wrote, "The Etruscans do not resemble any 
people in language or manners." But one thing is certain, 
from what little is known of them, that they exerted an 
immense influence on Roman, and even European civil- 
ization. 

The seventh and earlier part of the sixth century before 
Christ was probably the most flourishing Etruscan epoch, 
and the nation had then been in existence for half a thou- 
sand years. Historians place its decline as standing in an 
inverted ratio to the rise ©f Rome. 

The Etruscans possessed a high degree of civilization 
and art long before Rome was heard of; in fact, the Ro- 
mans borrowed from and imitated them in utensils, works 
of art, buildings, — for the Romans sent to Etruria for 
architects for some of their most famous buildings, and 
their vases, caskets, and jewelry were sent into Rome, or 
imitated by Roman workmen. And it is this beautiful 
workmanship of jewelry and ornamental work of the ancient 
Etruscans that you see in this museum, that causes you to 
be astonished that so little impi'ovement should have been 
made in so many hundreds of years. These people appear 
to have been the inventors of those beautiful patterns of 
Ettuscan jewelry which are produced to-day exactly after 
the ancient model, with scarcely a variation, and indeed but 
very little superior in style of workmanship. 

The Etruscan Collection, founded by Gregory XVI. in 
1836, is composed of relics excavated from 1828 to 1836, 
and also many recent discoveries, and is contained in twelve 
rooms. In these rooms we find beautiful vases, jewelry, 
domestic implements, and warlike weapons of this people, 



ANCIEJiTT VS. MODEKSr WOBKMANSHIP. 213 

who flonrislied a thousand j^ears before Christ. I can only 
ghmce at a few of the most notable wonders of the col- 
lection. 

In one room, an elegant bronze statue in full armor, with 
h(;lmet on and doublet beneath his cuirass, gives you a real- 
istic, or I may say the real, figure of which you so often see 
the counterfeit presentment in Flaxman's spirited illustra- 
tions of Hector, Ajax, or Achilles, and the workmanship 
and details of the figure are wonderful in their finish. 
Hung upon the wall here are helmets, shields, handsomely 
wrought mirrors, with wrought and engraved designs about 
their rims, upon their handles of fanciful figure, or on their 
backs. Here are braziers, with fire apparatus that is as 
beautiful in design as can be made at the present day : the 
tongs are on wheels, and are wrought out so as to terminate 
in serpents' heads ; the handle of the shovel is a swan's 
neck, and the fire-rake is wrought into the shape of a hu- 
man hand. 

I could hardly bring myself to believe that the elegant 
collection of Etruscan jewelry that was exposed in a glass 
case was worn by a lady three thousand years ago, for our 
jewellers to-day scarcely excel it in workmanship, and cer- 
tainly not in design. Here rests a superb wreath of oak- 
leaves, which to-day would form an elegant crown for a 
lady's head, and not be considered rude or antique in work- 
manship ; beside it rest the ear-rings, heavy and massy, in 
solid gold, which were worn by the same wearer, and her 
seal rings and beautiful bracelets, also in rich wrought gold. 
These, we are told, were taken from the tomb of an Etrus- 
can princess, over whom was inscribed in Etruscan char- 
acters, "Me, Larthia," signifying, "I, the Great Lady." 
She was a great lady three thousand years ago, and they 
presumed her name to be so great that it would endure for- 
ever, which was probably the reason they neglected to 
record it ; so that, when the tomb-rifiers of our day came to 
find what time had spared of this grand dame, all that was 



214 AlfCIENT ETEUSCAK ART. 

known of her was, that she had lived and wore right regal 
ornaments ; and here they are. 

That her "greatness" was honored by her descendants 
was evinced by the fact that it was several hundred years 
before any other Etrurian of sufficient greatness was found 
fit to occupy the remaining half or compartment of the 
tomb in which she rested, her compartment being walled up 
with spices separating it from the other. Finally a high- 
priest of Etruria died, and, like the Great Lady, was buried 
with all his ornaments in the other half of the tomb. And 
the study of these is a most interesting one to the anti- 
quary. Here are his armlets, the fillets to bind the plate 
of gold upon his head ; and this, and the plate of gold for 
the forehead, which is here also, are considered by some 
to have been similar to the head-dress of Aaron — an im- 
pression heightened by his priestly breastplate, reminding 
us of the Urim and Thummim breastplate of the Jewish 
priests, containing, as Milton sa,js, — 

" Those oraculous gems 
On Aaron's breast." 

Tn this room is the bronze couch upon which this digni- 
tary was found lying, or rather where the ornaments were 
found beside and about his heap of mouldering dust, and 
the great incense-burner that was found by his side. And 
the incense was so sti'ong that, notwithstanding it had been 
undisturbed for thirty centuries, its aromatic perfume, when 
set on fire by the finders, was so powerful as to drive them 
all from the room. 

The beautiful articles of jewelry that are displayed here 
really seemed more like an exhibition of modern novelties 
than of ancient art. There were different styles of ear- 
rings, some wrought into the shape of a ram's head, some 
into that of a bird ; chains, necklaces as fine and delicate as 
that filigree work the Genoese turn out to-day, and which 
is so familiar to tourists ; elastic gold armlets in the shape 



ANCIENT VASES. 215 

of serpents ; g-old myrtle and olive wreaths, rings, and a 
warrior's breastplate, magnificently embossed. 

Of the warlike and other bronze implements are very 
many which, by their elegant workmanship, surprise you 
as much as does the gold jewelry. Splendid candelabra, 
the patterns of which to-day are those that ornament our 
drawing-rooms ; elegant circular shields, some of them 
three feet in diameter, one with its wooden lining and the 
leather straps through which passed the warrior's arm still 
perfect, though it may have failed to shield him faithfully, 
for it is pierced with a lance-thrust ; battle-axes, cuirasses, 
greaves, and helmets identical in character to those repre- 
sented upon the ancient marble statuary we have been 
examining ; spears, or javelins ; a long, curved trumpet, 
like those we so frequently see in bas-reliefs of carving on 
monuments and arches ; the strigil, or bronze flesh-scraper 
used in the baths, — the instrument that the statue of the 
athlete in the Braccio Nuovo holds in its hand ; jugs, 
weights, and household implements, all showing the perfec- 
tion of civilization in their workmanship. 

Among the other rooms in this collection one of the most 
interesting is that containing a splendid array of vases, 
excavated from the ruins or sites of Etruscan cities. These 
are the original patterns from which copies are made to-day, 
their designs and workmanship being equal to the best of 
modern production. Black vases with red figures upon 
them, light yellow vases, deep red with black figures, and 
various in party-colored hues. The designs upon these 
elegant vases and urns form also a splendid collection of 
designs of mythological story, interesting to the classical 
student, and such correct representations of the poetic old 
fables that one has but little difficulty in recognizing them. 
There are Achilles and Ajax, Apollo attended by the Muses, 
Hercules at his Labors, the Death of Hector, the Eape of 
Proserpine, and scenes from the Trojan war — a bewildering 
collection. The other rooms contain sarcophagi, architec- 
tural fragments, bas-reliefs, frescos, and mosaics. 



216! THE EGYPTIAN MUSEUM. 

In the Egyptian Museum, the few antiquities that I had 
opportunity to examine made Eome's antiquities to seem 
modern. Mummies there were of course, for no Egyptian 
collection is complete without them; and it is a curious 
experience to be looking at the preserved corpse of a priest 
of Ammon of the city of Thebes, who flourished about 
eigliteen hundred and thirty years before Christ, or at a 
time corresponding with that in which the patriarch Jacob 
lived ; and you wonder if the black marble statue of a 
woman you stand before can really be, as they say it is, that 
of the mother of Rameses II., called by the Greeks Sesos- 
tris, and whose son, Menephtah, we find, by overhauling 
history, was overwhelmed by the Eed Sea when pursuing 
the Israelites. 

One of the most ancient and curious objects here is a 
scarabseus in jasper, with an inscription, in eleven lines, 
celebrating the marriage of Amenoph III., bearing a date 
ascertained to be no less than 1680 years b. c. Then 
comes an ancient necklace engraved with the name of Re- 
noubka, an ancient king who flourished in the time of the 
patriarch Abraham. Two lions in black granite, each side 
of the colossal statue of Sesostris above mentioned, were 
found near the Pantheon in 1448, in the ruins of the Baths 
of Agrippa, and the hieroglyphics upon their base, it is 
said, tell that they date from the time of King Nectanebus 
I., one of the builders of the Temple of PhiliB, on its granite 
rock in the middle of the Nile, 357 b. c. 

Shall we ever get through with the Vatican ? So thought 
I, as with aching limbs, a crowded brain, fatigued with 
ever succeeding, never ending novelties and wonders, both- 
ered by custodians who sometimes were so fussy as to wish 
to inspect and even forbid my making notes in my note- 
book, and absolutely forbidding — which in my case was 
perfectly unnecessary — that I should make any drawings. 
The tourist on his first visit to Rome, no matter how thor- 
oughly he resolves to see this great collection, will come 



THE VATICAN LIBRARY. 217 

away leaving portions of it absolutely iinvisited, and others 
walked through as hurriedly as if on the way to a railroad 
station. A description of its contents would fill a volume, 
yes, a dozen, if fairly written out. 

Now, when one is told that the Vatican Library contains 
over fift^'' thousand books and twenty-five thousand manu- 
scripts ; that it is the oldest and most celebrated library in 
Europe ; that it contains, notwithstanding its comparatively 
small number of books, some of the most pi-iceless of liter- 
ary treasures in the world, such as a manuscript of Virgil 
of the date of the fourth or fifth century ; a manuscript of 
Dante in the handwriting of Boccaccio, with marginal notes 
by Petrarch ; a manuscript of Tasso ; Henry VIII. 's love- 
letters to Anne Boleyn ; the Roman manuscript of Terence 
in the ninth century ; the Bible of St. Gregory, &c. ; let him 
not anticipate that he is going to enjoy the same freedom 
and courtesy that he has experienced in the Bodleian or 
British Museum, or that he can personally inspect all these 
literary treasures. He is fortunate if he gets inside the 
rooms and sees the rich caskets in which they are inclosed ; 
for it is but between nine and twelve o'clock that visitors 
are admitted, and then only when it is not some red-letter 
day of the church ; consequently they are closed to visitors 
for over two hundred days of the year. 

If you are fortunate enough to obtain admission, you see 
no serried rows of books marshalled upon their shelves, and 
but small arraj' of curious manuscripts to enlist your wonder 
and stud}'. You enter by a small, modest door, and are 
fairly dazzled by the grand hall that spreads out before you, 
two hundred and twenty feet long, twenty feet wide, and 
thirty feet high, lined with fi'escos. Beautiful pillars, the 
friezes and vaults covered with magnificent pictures in fresco, 
decoration, carving and gilding, an elegant marble pave- 
ment, gifts from sovereigns to popes, great malachite vases, 
crosses, fonts of Sevres and Berlin porcelain, bronzes, and 
rare articles of virtu — you are bewildered with a plethora 



218 LITERARY WEALTH. 

of most gorgeous decoration and splendor which seems to 
you but a gilded dream when you recall it afterwards. 

Library ! Books ! Why, we forgot all that part of it. 
Why didn't we call for books or manuscripts ? Well, the 
amount of red tape, blanks to be filled out, writings to be 
sent, and orders to be obtained from high officials, before 
such privilege can be obtained, is such that few attempt it. 
Then, again, you rarely — if you are fortunate enough to 
get inside — have more than opportunity to look at the 
rooms and decoration ere you are obliged to leave. 

To be sure, you are told that the books and manuscripts 
are in the carved and gilded presses and cases that we 
passed in our whirl of wonderment ; but, as far as the rich 
collection of literature being of any advantage to the world, 
— it is a miser's treasure in the earth, a light under a 
bushel, in the way it is now managed, with every possible 
obstacle placed in the way of the scholar, student, or 
visitor. 

Wey, in speaking of the manuscripts of the Vatican Libra- 
ry, says : " There are eighteen Slave manuscripts, ten from 
China, twenty-two from India, thirteen from Armenia, two 
from the old land of the Iberians, eighty in Coptic, and one 
from Samaria, seventy-one from Ethiopia, five hundred and 
ninety of Hebrew origin, and four hundred and fifty-nine of 
Syrian, sixty-four from Turkey, seven hundred and eighty- 
seven from Arabia, and sixty-five from Persia, illustrated 
with fine miniatures." 

The whole collection of Greek, Latin, and Oriental manu- 
scripts is twenty-three thousand five hundred and eighty — 
the finest in the world ; but these fusty, musty old parch- 
ments, many of them, are only intelligible to scholars of 
great erudition, and only accessible through a labyrinth of 
circumlocution. 

No visitor thinks of leaving the Vatican without having 
visited the Gallery of Pictures, or of visiting that gallery 
without having seen Raphael's great masterpiece, The 



Raphael's masterpiece. 219 

Transfiguration, finished immediately before his death, and 
beneath which his bod}'- lay in state before his funeral. The 
subject is so familiar as not to require description ; it has 
been criticised and described till even those who have never 
s(!en it almost know it by heart. Our Saviour, rising in the 
midst of a glorious transparent light, with the figures of 
Moses and Elijah on either side of him ; the three disciples 
fallen terror- stricken upon the ground ; and below, in the 
lower part of the picture, the group of figures in which the 
three principal ones — the kneeling woman, and the epileptic 
boy in the arms of his father — are all grand pieces of compo- 
sition, and the heads and expressions of the surrounding 
groups all studies of great artistic beauty. The whole 
painting is distinguished by its grace of grouping, and, if 
the expression may be allowed, its dramatic points and the 
forcible tableau-like position into which the groups seem to 
have been thrown, in order, seemingly, to make the greatest 
possible impression upon the spectator. Eaphael is said to 
have received a sum equivalent to three hundred and twenty 
pounds for painting this picture, — none too much, as all 
will agree who look upon it. Whether it is the " greatest 
painting in the world " or not, I will not venture an opinion, 
but that it is a wonderful creation of art, even the inexpe- 
rienced will admit ia looking upon the beautiful grouping 
and coloring, the life-like expression of the figures, and the 
general harmony of the whole grand tableau that is so 
vividly displayed, and your average tourist who does Rome 
and the Vatican must put it down in his note-book as one 
of the sights not to be missed. 

From this grand creation the visitor turns to others, such 
as Domenichino's Communion of St. Jerome, a picture which 
has a story, which is this : The monks of the monastery 
of Ara Coeli employed the artist to paint it, but on its com- 
pletion had a quarrel with him, and only paid him about 
fifty Roman scudi — a little more than fifty dollars of our 
money — for the picture, and even then locked it up in 



220 THE GALLERY GP VASES. 

some dark, out-of-the-way closet, and refused to place it on 
their walls. 

They afterwards called in Poussin to paint an altar-piece 
for their church. Upon his asking for canvas, the holy 
brothers brought out this picture, and desired him to paint 
over that. Poussin, astonished, refused to destroy so beau- 
tiful a painting, gave up his commission, and making known 
to the proper authorities the existence of the picture, it was 
afterwards placed in another church, and finally removed to 
this place, where it is one of the principal attractions. 

The old saint is represented as having been bx'ought, half 
naked, emaciated, and dying, to the magnificent gate of a 
monastery, where two priests in superb ecclesiastical cos- 
tume — in striking contrast to his miserable condition — - 
are about administering to him the sacrament. The attenu- 
ated and emaciated figure of the saint, as he lies feebly 
upon the monastery step, is wonderfully well done, — so 
true to life as to be a perfect counterfeit ; the noble, digni- 
fied figure of the priest, the rich folds of his robe, and the 
head of one of the figures bending over the saint, — all 
excite admiration from the most casual observer. 

When you leave the Hall of the Chariot, already de- 
scribed, you come to a long corridor, three hundred feet in 
length, known as the Gallery of Vases and Candelabra, It 
is divided into six sections by beautiful Doric marble col- 
umns of different colors, and each of the sections contains 
specimens of ancient vases, sarcophagi, cups, mosaics, and 
statues. 

The great candelabra in this hall are wonders of antique 
art. They are of white marble, beautifully sculptured, and 
upon their bases are wrought spirited bas-reliefs of mytho- 
logical story. One, found near the Gardens of Sallust, has 
a representation of Hercules carrying off the tripod of 
Delphi, Apollo and an attendant, &c. Another has a rep- 
resentation on its base of Apollo flaying Marsyas ; and 
another that of Silenus and Bacchante, dancing fauns, &c. 



NOTABLE ART TREASURES. 221 

Those great candelabra, eight in number, dug out from the 
ruins of tlie temples of old Rome, have blazed with the flame 
at sacrifice, feast, and game, when the smoke went up from 
lieathen altars to the gods ; and yet, despite this, and even 
despite the pagan emblems that still adorn them, some of 
them, since their discovery, have done duty in Christian 
churches. 

We can only glance at a few of the most notable treas- 
ures of this section of the great world of wonders we have 
been so long traversing. Near the entrance of the first 
division of the gallery are two trunks of trees in white 
marble, and upon the branches of one a nest containing as 
nestlings five little sculptured cupids. In this hall we saw 
a statue of the celebrated Diana of Ephesus, larger than 
life, in the costume in which she was said to have been 
worshipped in the temple of Diana of Ephesus. This costume 
is a sort of tight-fitting swathing, ornamented with figures 
of sphinxes, lions, bulls, and stags' heads. Her breasts, 
sixteen in number, are said to typify the sixteen cubits of 
the Nile's rising, and a necklace of acorns and mystic signs 
adorns the neck of this remarkable figure, which was found 
at Hadrian's Villa. 

I have lingered about and around so many specimens of 
sarcophagi in the different halls of the Vatican that I almost 
hesitate to attempt descriptions of any in this hall, Avhere I 
was surprised to find several very beautiful ones not at all 
referred to in my guide-book. These ancient sarcophagi 
give you the old mythological stories in bas-reliefs upon 
their sides and lids, which it is often very interesting to 
trace out. A splendid one in this gallery bears upon its 
sides the sculptured representation of Apollo and Diana 
destroying with their deadly arrows the family of Niobe. 
The central figures of the group are an old man and woman 
vainly trying to save the children from the fatal shafts, 
while the various attitudes of the figui-es, in fear, suppli- 
cation, and agony, are finely represented by the ancient 
sculptor. 



222 THE HALL OF MAPS. 

The lid of this great casket has on its border, very appro- 
priately, a representation of dead bodies. Upon the top of 
this sarcophagus stood two exquisite vases of rose-colored 
alabaster, and another of translucent marble or alabaster, 
beautifully marked with concentric rings. The life-size 
figure of the Lacedsemonian virgin racer, with bared bosom 
and legs and short dress for the race, is a fine piece of 
work, as is also the sarcophagus representing the carrying 
off of the two daughters of King Leucippus by Castor and 
Pollux, and the huge bowl or crater with the bas-reliefs 
representing the vintage by fauns, cupids, and old Silenus ; 
and gems of vases in maible, jasper, polished porphyry, red 
granite, or black basalt, standing on antique altars, bearing 
inscriptions no doubt of interest to the scholar or archseolo- 
gist, but which we had not the time to stop and trace out 
or translate. 

The visitor who has enjoyed by frequent visits the wealth 
of art and beauty already described, will perhaps pass 
through what is known as the great Gallery of Maps some- 
what hastily, although it is another one of those gorgeously 
decorated halls with a beautiful perspective. The Gallery 
of Maps is an immense hall, nearly five hundred feet in 
length, lighted by thirty-four windows, those on one side 
looking into the Court of Belvedere, and the other into the 
Vatican Gardens ; and all the view we had of the gardens 
was from the windows, for we were obliged in this instance, 
for lack of time, to give Nature the go-by for Art. In the 
spaces between the windows on either side are enormous 
maps of the provinces, possessions, and cities of Italy in 
1581, and they are curious specimens of the geographical 
knowledge of those times. Between the windows are also 
marble benches and a row of seventy-two Hermes, or 
ancient busts of orators, poets, fauns, &c,, upon high 
pedestals. 

The vault of this grand apartment is an arch of splendor in 
its rich decoration of statuettes, carving, gilding, coffer and 



THE HALL OF TAPESTRIES. 223 

panel work, and fresco painting. The picture in the middle 
vault represents our Saviour intrusting the keys and the 
flock to St. Peter. The walls around the windows and 
maps are beautifully decorated with festoons, wreaths, ara- 
besques, and grotesque allegorical ornamentation. The 
contents of the gallery, however, are of course much less 
interesting than those of others, and tourists whose time is 
limited seldom give it more than a mere cursory examination, 
or none at all. 

We must now enter the Gallery of the Arazzi or Tapestries, 
called so from the fact that these wondrous hangings were 
made at Arras, in Flanders. Shakspeare, it will be remem- 
bered, calls tapestry hangings arras in two familiar plays : 
in " ITamlet," where Polonius is described as concealing 
himself behind the "arras " ; and in "King John/' where 
Hubert says to the attendants who are with him to assist 
in putting out young Arthur's ej^es, " Heat me these irons 
hot ; and look thou stand within the arras," &c. 

The tapestries have a singular' history, which is told at 
length in the guide-books, of their being stolen in 1527, 
restored in 1554, carried away again in 1198, and recovered 
again in 1808. They were skilfully wrought in wool, silk, 
and gold, and contain so much of the latter that on one 
occasion when they were recovered, the Hebrew purchasers 
were just commencing to burn them for the purpose of melt- 
ing out the gold contained in the embroidery. The paint- 
ings from which they were copied, as is well known, were 
the celebrated and familiar cartoons of Raphael. The tap- 
estries were woven in 15 IG to decorate the walls of the 
Sistine Chapel on festival days, and are divided into two 
parts : those of the old school, or first series, being those from 
the hand of Raphael himself; and the second series, or new 
school, executed after his death by his Italian and Flemish 
pupils. There are twenty-two in all ; those of Raphael, 
such as The Lame Man Healed by Peter and John, Miracu- 
lous Draught of Fishes, &c., are too familiar to require 



224 GREAT WORKS BY RAPHAEL. 

description, while the others represent such scenes as The 
Stoning of Stephen, Slaughter of the Innocents, and Ado- 
ration of the Shepherds. Some that have been restored are 
quite fresh and beautiful in their colors and tints, and others 
are sadly faded by time and rough usage. 

All too short was our stay in those beautiful galleries that 
run around three sides of an open space, and are called the 
Loggie and Stanze of Raphael, with their superbly decorated 
ceilings that gave me the back-ache from continued looking 
upwards for an hour or two, for the thirteen sections of the 
vaulting contain forty-eight beautiful representations of 
scenes from the Old Testament and four from the New. No 
wonder this superb pictorial display is called " Raphael's 
Bible," for you may read, in these illustrations, parts of the 
Old Testament by the graphic and gracefully presented pic- 
torial representations of its most familiar scenes : commen- 
cing with the creation of light, separation of light from dark- 
ness ; then the creation of the sun and moon, creation of 
Eve ; Deluge, Lot's flight, Joseph sold by his brethren ; and 
continuing with Biblical history till we come to the Israel- 
ites crossing Jordan, building of Solomon's Temple, &c. 
The four scenes from the New Testament are the Adoration, 
the Wise Men of the East, Baptism of Christ, and Last 
Supper. 

The " Stanze " of Raphael also are not only richly dec- 
orated on the ceilings, but upon the sides of the different 
rooms — especially in those known as the Stanza della 
Segnatura and the Stanza d' Eliodoro, which were painted by 
Raphael himself unaided — are numerous beautiful fresco 
pictures of allegorical figures, Bible history, and mythologi- 
cal subjects. 

Among the most remarkable of these is the one familiar 
from its reproduction in engravings. The School of Athens, 
with its fifty-two figures representing ancient philosophera 
and scholars, such as Plato, Aristotle, Socrates, and Pythago- 
ras, all the figures being most gracefully and naturally posed 



GRAND PICTORIAL EFFECTS. 225 

and placed without the least appearance of crowding'. The 
Expulsion of Ileliodorus from the Temple of Jerusalem is 
another wondrous work of art that fairly stirs the blood 
like a martial poem as you look upon it. Its beautiful col- 
oring, vigor of expression, and dramatic grouping are per- 
fect, and it may justly be said to be one of the artist's 
greatest triumphs. 

"\Vo pass by the Mass of Bulsena, Attila kept back from 
Eome, to halt at another painting of great beauty, and in 
which the different effects of light have been marvellously 
well managed — The Deliverance of Peter from his Prison 
by the Angel. The angel is depicted as arousing Peter, 
and the effulgent light which surrounds him seems to make 
the metal armor of the sleeping soldiers fairly glitter in 
its beams, while from the other side of a grated window 
comes the light from the red glare of torches, which shines 
upon another group of soldiers, with singularly natural 
effect ; and still another effect of light is introduced in a 
representation of that from the moon, which is seen shining 
in the distance, — the whole forming one of the most admi- 
rably effective and wonderfully artistic managements of light 
in pictorial effect that I have ever looked upon. 

The Oath of Leo III., Coronation of Charlemagne, and on 
one long wall a spirited and vigorous battle-scene of Con- 
stantine against Maxentius, with men and horses, banners 
and weapons intermingled in furious conflict, are among the 
other attractions in this series of halls. This latter picture 
is said to be the largest historical subject ever painted. It 
was designed by Raphael and painted by Giulio Romano, and 
its representation is distinguished for vigorous action and 
warlike energy. 

The reader will be spared a description of that part of 
the Vatican appropriated as the papal residence, or of an 
audience with Pius IX., as his Holiness was suffering from 
indisposition during most of the time occupied by the 
author's visit, and he was, therefore, obliged to leave Eome 
15 



226 OBSTACLES TO ENJOTMEiN-T. 

without having- seen the Pope, — a circumstance which, al- 
though somewhat to be regretted, there is some compensa- 
tion for in the reflection that it gave other tourists who had 
been there, whom he afterwards met, so mucli satisfaction 
to know that they had enjoyed that privilege " when they 
were in Rome ; " and " 0," they " wouldn't have missed 
it for anything ; " and " You ought to have seen him if you 
had not seen anything else there ; " and " You missed one 
of the greatest things in Europe." This may be all true, 
but aching limbs and a fatigued brain indicated to me too 
M^ell the hopeless endeavor to put what ought to occupy 
months of sight-seeing into a few weeks, as does the effort 
to write even the results of it in the comparatively few 
pages necessary to leave space for other scenes and expe- 
riences, and avoid the risk of becoming tedious. 

As one hardly knows how or where to begin to inspect 
the treasures of the Vatican, so when one gets fairly within 
its walls, unless he has abundance of time at command, he 
is puzzled as to what portion to race through or what to 
leave unvisited. But, even with sufficient time for frequent 
visits, comfortable and careful examination, or the enjoy- 
ment one would desire, is abridged by the manner in which 
time is apportioned for the admission of visitors to different 
portions of the collection. 

Thus the visitor, who may perhaps have seen all but what 
will require an hour's inspection in a certain gallery, comes 
next day to find that portion is closed for that day, and only 
open once or twice a week ; or, having arrived at the end 
of a large hall after a wearisome tramp, instead of being per- 
mitted to pass across a vestibule into the next succeeding 
museum, finds his further progress stopped by an inexorable 
iron gate or grating, and is forced to retrace his steps, 
descend and go around the building to another entrance, 
thereby losing from half to three-quarters of an hour in 
reaching it, only to find that he has but an hour left of 
the time allotted for the gallery to be open, and that will be 



THE ADVANTAGES OF PREPAEATIOIS". 227 

abridged by the attendants at least one quarter, many of 
whom seem determined that intrusive foreigners shall stay 
not a moment longer in these sacred precincts than regula- 
tions allow. 

Previous preparation adds so much to the enjoyment of a 
visit to this wonderful museum, that too much cannot be 
said in its favor ; and the American intending to visit Rome, 
who has not, as he may think, had the advantages of such 
education, to enable him to enjoy it to its fullest extent, 
should by no means neglect even the briefest oppoi'tunities 
of preparation in the way of historical reading. The leisure 
hours of a single season devoted to Roman history and 
mythology will be found to add immensely to one's enjoy- 
ment ; indeed, the very stories of our youth become of ser- 
vice to us in a visit to old Rome, and the smallest bits of 
information respecting its history, or legends that have been 
laid away in the storehouse of memory, are found to be of 
service. 

A thoroughly ignorant man visiting such a collection as 
that of the Vatican in Rome, is like a deaf person at a 
concert of music ; he sees the motions of the performers, 
and, although his friends may communicate to him the pur- 
pose for which the motions are made, he can have no perfect 
idea of their effect, and certainly but little enjoyment or 
appreciation of the real merits of the music. 

The collection at the Vatican is so vast and so varied that 
one must be dull indeed, and have improved but few of the 
natural advantages possessed by all men, not to find some 
department and many objects that will arouse his interest, 
or enlist his attention. The time devoted to it by tourists 
only allows a passing glance at a few of the most prominent 
objects in the principal apartments. And. not only is it the 
historical antiquities and wondrous works of ancient art which 
the visitor encounters that excite his interest, but the archi- 
tectural beauties and superb decorations of the halls them- 
selves, wherein the old popes have sought to perpetuate 



228 THE COLOSSEUM. 

their names as patrons of the arts, and where successive 
artists have contended with each other" for supremacy in 
conception, design, and execution. 



CHAPTER XI. 

The Colosseum ! That one great central figure in all imagi- 
nations of ancient Rome, and, in fact, one that always rose 
in fancy's pictures when we wondered if we should ever 
visit the old city. That sturdy enduring monument of the 
past, that has witnessed the triumphs and excesses of suc- 
cessive tyrants, echoed to the shouts of Rome's populace in 
her palmiest days ; whose arena has been soaked with the 
blood of barbarian gladiators and Christian martyrs ; whose 
walls have withstood the assaults of vandal conquerors, the 
inexorable tooth of time, and, more than all these, the van- 
dal-like assaults of modern Romans themselves ! 

The Colosseum ! I actually felt a nervous thrill when we 
started off to visit this mute link between to-day and distant 
centuries. It was a pilgrimage to tell off one of the great 
beads strung on time's rosary, and fitting it was that we 
should again stroll, on our way to it, through the Roman 
Forum, where all around, above, each side, and under 
foot, were the remains and the very dust of the mighty 
power that made such an indelible impression upon the 
history of the world as to be felt for centuries after it had 
ceased to exist. 

The successive destructions by fire and invasion that threw 
down hut, palace, and temple, and the architectural monu- 
ments which each ambitious emperor erected to perpetuate 
the glory of his name, some upon the very ruins of those of 
his predecessor, give us a Rome of to-day eighteen feet or 



RELICS OF THE PAST. 229 

more above the Rome of the Caesars, and we walk over a 
soil in which it is impossible to dig' iu any direction to the 
depth of a few feet without striking relics of the past which 
lie in regular historic strata, one above the other. 

In the Roman Forum, and on the way to the Colosseum ! 
the very Forum that knew Cato and Julius Csesar, and rung 
with Cicero's orations ; where Virginius slew his daughter, 
and where Scipio discomfited his accuser on the anniversary 
of the day he had overcome Hannibal ; where the Roman 
populace had so often been swayed by the winning promises 
and the largesses of emperors, stirred and aroused by the 
magic of eloquence, or with ungrateful or avenging daggers 
struck at their best friends or bloodiest tyrants ; and through 
which they had thronged in eager crowds to the great white 
marble circus, with its rings of arches crowned with a 
purple canopy, to witness gladiatorial or wild-beast com- 
bats 1 

And what do we see as we pass along the route through 
this brief and narrow space, so crammed with historic 
events ? The two great shattered arches, furrowed, seamed, 
and crumbling as beneath the veritable gigantic teeth of 
Chronos ; here and there a group of pillars, graceful in their 
loneliness, beautiful even in their ruin, fragments left, as it 
were, by the destroyer to show how grand and beautiful was 
that he had overcome. As we approach the Arch of Con- 
stantino, the grand oval with its shattered side bursts upon 
the view, with its series of arches and its grand circular sweep 
of pillars, column, and cornice, recognized at once as an old 
familiar friend ; the brown travertine, the shattered and 
crumbling edges of the topmost walls, and the waving weeds 
and flowers here and there high up among the crumbling 
masonry that writers and poets tell of, — all were there. 

We descended one of the roadways which are on each 
side, for it will be remembered that this great amphitheatre 
was built in a hollow on the site of the great lake in the 
gardens of Nero's " Golden House ; " and it is said by 



230 THE GIANT OF EOMAN RUINS. 

some authorities that when the Emperoi- Vespasian drained 
the lake for a site for his amphitheatre, he at the same time 
pulled down Nero's Palace. We pass the ruins of the 
Palaces of the Ceesars, as they are called, above which, 
until the excavations made by Louis Napoleon, bloomed a 
flourishing vineyard. The appearance of the earth and 
stone and fragments here is as if the roadway and sur- 
roundings were of ground-up, burned bread ; a dried sponge 
— scoria — exhausted earth that had been palace-wall and 
peasant's hut and street pavement, crushed, smashed, burned, 
buried, excavated, time-worn, till the very life of the very 
stone was sucked out and only the husk left behind. 

But we are close upon the Colosseum, well named by the 
venerable Bede, for it is a colossus among the other ruins ; and 
even now, after having been degraded to be fortress, factory, 
and stone quarry, and plundered by ancient vandals who 
wrenched off its marble sheathing for the metal bolts in the 
wall, and by modern desecrators who carried away its solid 
blocks of stone to build four palaces, — despite all the injury 
wrought by ancient spoiler and modern plunderer, it is still 
impressive from the symmetry and grandeur of its propor- 
tions ; while the interior arrangements, which can plainly be 
traced, for the accommodation of more than eighty thousand 
spectators, were so perfect as to elicit to-day the admiration 
of modern architects. 

The Colosseum was one of those sights that looked, as we 
approached it, just as I had fancied in my imagination it 
would. There were the rings or open arcades of regular 
arches, one above the other, with the pillars between, — 
three orders of architecture being seen in its four stories. 
There before it was the brown hillock or cone, all that re- 
mained of the great fountain that in the days of Eome's 
splendor sent its sparkling waters into the air to fall back 
into the great marble basin round which the gladiators 
gathered after the combat or games to wash and receive con- 
gratulations from patrons, master, or friends. The rich and 



THE COLOSSEUM DESCRIBED. 231 

warm brown tint of the great ruin beneath the blue of the 
Italian sky, and surrounded by the verdure in the neighbor- 
hood, is all in perfect harmony of coloring, making a picture 
grateful to the eye. 

The shape of the Colosseum, a grand ellipse resting on 
arches, is familiar to all readers. There were eighty of these 
open ai'ches in the three lower stories in the whole circum- 
ference of the building, each arch being fourteen feet and 
six inches in width, except at the extremities of the diame- 
ters of the ellipse, where they are two feet wider. Be- 
tween all the arches are columns, or were columns, through- 
out the whole circumference, and each successive ring or 
tier of arches and columns was of a different order of archi- 
tecture : the lowest plain Doric, the next above Ionic, and 
the third Corinthian. Above these, if the reader will look 
at pictures of the Colosseum, he will observe was another 
circular tier, consisting of a wall without open arches, but 
decorated with Corinthian pilasters, and pierced with win- 
dows for light and ventilation. Above this was a great 
entablature in which are the holes which held the masts 
supporting the great awning or curtain that shaded the 
audience fi*om the sun, known as the velarium. 

We may get some idea of the magnitude of the structure 
from the fact that all that now remains in any degree entire 
is only three-eighths of the whole circumference. The whole 
structure covered about six acres of ground. The total 
height was one hundred and fifty-seven feet, the different 
stories of arches being respectively thirty, thirty-eight, 
thirty-eight, and forty-four feet high, which, added to the 
entablature, makes the height above mentioned, although 
some authorities place the total height at one hundred and 
ninety feet. A few more figures of dimensions may be 
suggestive : for instance, that you must walk one third of a 
mil(? to accomplish its circumference, and the space occupied 
by the arena is two hundred and seventy-eight feet long by 
one hundred and seventy-seven in width. 



232 ROMAN VANDALISM. 

We descended towards this great monument of the past, 
and halted at its lower arches to look up at the huge blocks 
of travertine, of which it was built, some of them five feet 
high and eight or ten feet long ; and the holes where many 
were held together by iron clamps, or where the marble 
sheathing was fastened to them, are still visible. There are 
also discoverable upon these blocks the builders' signs and 
marks, indications of their having been hewn, squared, and 
numbered before being raised to their position. This per- 
fectly quarried stone was too great a temptation for the 
Roman princes of the fifteenth century, who saw in it a 
mine of wealth for the construction of their palaces, and 
whom we of these more modern times have to anathematize 
for doing more than even the scythe of Time would have 
done towards its destruction ; for the Farnese, San Marco, 
and Barberini palaces were built of stone plundered from 
its walls ; and that one of the spoilers at least was conscious 
'of the outrage he was committing is evidenced by the man- 
ner in which he is described to have set about it. 

This was the Cardinal Farnese, who, after long im- 
portunity to his uncle, Paul III., who was Pope 1534-50, 
and a setting forth of his need of a little of the useless 
stone that he represented was falling to ruin and decay, at 
length extorted a reluctant consent from the old pontiff that 
he might take as much stone as he could remove in twelve 
hours. He improved this permission by setting four thou- 
, sand workmen at the task for that length of time, and, as 
may be reasonably inferred, obtained a very respectable 
amount of building material for his new palace. 

The structure is guarded jealously enough now, how- 
ever, for in my walk through it I chanced to see a two-inch 
marble chip amid a heap of debris, and had scarcely trans- 
ferred it to my pocket as a memento of the visit, ere one of 
the military guardians of the place was at my side to inform 
me that " il est defendu, Monsieur," (it is forbidden) ; and I 
was forced to throw down the bit of stone again. A 



WALKING OVER THE ROYAL ROAD. 233 

little further on, however, when a friendly arch interfered 
between the soldier and his commanding officer, he com- 
municated to me that he had some very fine specimens of 
fragments of marble and antique carving found here, to 
sell, which he would be glad to bring to my lodgings if 
desired. 

We owe to the French the clearing of the accumulated 
rubbish of centuries from the arena of the Colosseum, and 
to Pope Pius VII. the building of the wall that supports 
the shattered part or end of the gap. I halted at the lower 
arches, which, as I arrived at them, began to give me a new 
idea of the magnitude of the structure. Above many of 
them I could plainly trace the Koman numerals, such as 
XXV, XL, XXXI, which, as they were all used as places 
of ingress and egress for the vast multitude who attended 
the games, were doubtless numbered that each might know 
the proper entrance to reach his place without trouble or 
confusion. We walked round this vast outer corridor of 
entrances, halted at one wider than the rest, above which 
were no figures, and which is said to have been the imperial 
entrance, the passage by which the emperor passed to reach 
his place to grace the games by his imperial presence. 

And over this road to the spectacle may have passed 
Vespasian or Trajan, Hadrian, Domitian, or Titus the con- 
queror of Jerusalem ; the last-named reminding us that this 
great monument to Rome's glory, this relic and reminder of 
her savage cruelty and lust for blood, which was dedicated 
by the Roman conqueror of the Holy City, is said to have 
had twelve thousand captive Jews employed upon the labor 
of its erection, its very stones cemented with the groans and 
tears of a captive people beneath the taskmaster's whip, as 
were those of the Pyramids of Egypt, where the Hebrews 
were also captives and the Egyptians the tyrants. Round 
under this great lower tier of arches, this huge lobby to 
the amphitheatre, passed the incoming and outgoing crowds 
on the days of the games and gladiatorial combats. 



234 ARCHITECTURAL SKILL. 

We reached the gate of entrance, guarded by a cus- 
todian, and passed in from the outer circle of entrance 
arches to the next series ; and here we had opportunity of 
marking the wondrous skill with which the architect or 
architects, whoever they may have been, planned this vast 
theatre for the accommodation of the one hundred thousand 
spectators it was designed to contain, so that there should 
be no confusion attending their entrance or exit, and that 
the different classes should be able to reach the positions 
designed for them without coming in. contact with each 
other after entering. 

The name of the designer of the Colosseum has not come 
down to us, though it is well known that the structure was 
commenced hj Vespasian a. d. 12, and dedicated eight 
years afterwards by Titus, after his return from the conquest 
of Jerusalem. But, whoever the designer was, his plans 
for the convenience and accommodation of so vast an au- 
dience seem as well-nigh perfect as they possibly could be. 

I had now got within the second corridor, which, like 
the outer one above referred to, ran entirely around the 
building, and within this was another ; eighty walls, cor- 
responding with the number of entrance arches, radiated 
inwards from the second corridor, and supported the 
structure ; and between these walls were the staircases 
leading to a third corridor, which also ran around the 
building. Then came the eighty division walls again, with 
spaces for the staircases and passages leading to the 
inner or fourth corridor, divided from the arena by a huge 
wall, upon the top of which was the lower range of seats 
for spectators of the highest rank, who sat fifteen feet 
above the level of the arena, and were still further pro- 
tected, when wild-beast combats took place, by a metal net- 
work or trellis. 

But I am not going to describe the Colosseum as it was, 
although, to every visitor of an imaginative turn who comes 
here, its ancient magnificence may be filled out in his own 



A DREAM OF THE PAST. 235 

mind's eye. I interested myself first by climbing- to the 
great squai'e, ruined blocks, which are said to have been 
wlicre the emperor sat to witness the games, and thinking 
that here liad Vespasian and Titus and Doraitian, Cara- 
calla and Hadrian sat, as the group of gladiators paused 
beneath, before engaging in mortal combat, to salute them 
with uplifted arms with, Ave Gcesar, Imperator, Morituri te 
salutant. ("Hail, Imperial Cicsar ! Those who are about 
to die salute thee.") To which the imperial tyrant, with 
nod of approval, replied, Avete vos. ("Health to you.") 

Shattered like the great empire that was raised with 
blood, strengthened by conquest, and made splendid Avith 
the spoil of nations, is the proud throne from which the 
emperors looked down upon the bloody circus, — a few 
jagged rocks with no semblance of seat or dais ; the cir- 
cle of the podium, or L^wer ring, just outlined here and 
there by the line of ruins that runs around in jagged de- 
formity. It requires a pretty strong stretch of imagination 
to reproduce it as the high marble wall, decorated with bas- 
reliefs and statuary, and peopled with praetors, consuls, 
Eediles, and vestal virgins, who sat here to witness some of 
the most terrible dramas ever enacted in ancient Rome, • — 
who looked upon men cut down by thousands, or saw them 
torn by ravenous beasts without a shudder, and whose exul- 
tant kabel ! as the weapon of the more skilful gladiator 
crushed the life out of his panting adversary, applauded " the 
wretch who won." 

But I climbed down from my perch from the emperor's 
seat, and then we explored the stairways and passages, 
and some of us ascended away up to the highest point 
where it was safe to go, and looked down, as did the Roman 
people a thousand years ago, upon the bloody ring beneath ; 
and I could not but notice that at whatever point we 
paused, the whole of the arena was visible, it evidently hav- 
ing been so contrived that the spectacle should be in unin- 
terrupted view of the whole of the vast assemblage. 



236 EXPLOEIKG THE COLOSSEUM'. 

It is a grand view, this sight of the whole vast theatre, 
or all that remains of it, below you, and the great stone circle, 
huge even seen from this height, stretching out its vast 
ring on either side. It was a realization to me of youthful 
dreams, a fruition of ho^De, to stand here upon the top of 
the amphitheatre of imperial Eome, and look down upon its 
tier on tier of arches, brown, crumbling ruins, fringed with 
flowers and grass or waving weeds, great yawning black 
chasms here and there, where the masonry had fallen in, 
and opposite me the ridgy, ragged edges of the partition 
walls, standing shai'ply out in the shade, like crayon-lines or 
the ribs of the great skeleton from which the flesh had 
mouldered and fallen. 

Turning, I looked upon the Forum, the triumphal arches, 
and the landscape, and Rome's hills beneath the blue bend- 
ing azure of an Italian sky, and found that an Italian sun was 
all too fervid to dream or sentimentalize under ; and so, hav- 
ing climbed about from point to point of the different circles 
of the great amphitheatre, wherever the guardian who fol- 
lowed us would permit, (and to some places he would not 
permit,) I prepared to descend and visit the different points 
of interest in and about the arena. And here I may ob- 
serve that clambering about upon some of the upper por- 
tions of the structure is extremely dangerous, owing to the 
deceptive appearance caused by grasses or vegetation near 
the edge, which the incautious explorer may approach too 
near, and be precipitated down a ruined archway, or from 
one platform to that beneath, if he undertakes to elude the 
custodians of the place, or explore portions which have been 
shut off" from visitors or over which they are forbidden to 
pass. 

Descending, I found myself behind the podium, or lower 
wall, that directly inclosed the arena ; and here we were 
shown various interesting remains : one a long passage re- 
cently opened, which led from the arena floor to the Palace 
of Titus, and another which led to the menagerie. There is 



BEHIND THE SCENES. 237 

a long covered passage, which has been opened, that ran 
completely around the arena, just back of the inner wall, 
and which, our cicerone informed us, was used as a passage 
for the slaves and those who did the work of the arena to 
pass from point to point to perform their duties while the 
combats were going on, so as not to cross the open space or 
interrupt the proceedings. 

Then we went into two great dens, recently cleared out, 
where the wild beasts were confined, close to the arena, so 
they could be easily freed and sent out'to take their part in 
the scene before the populace. In another passage running 
around the arena are smaller dens, with holes above, through 
which the occupants could be fed. The various chambers, gal- 
leries, dens, and great arched cell-looking apartments be- 
hind the podium must have been those that held gladiators, 
beasts, horses, chariots, and slaves. It is really the " be- 
hind the scenes," as it were, and where hungry wild beasts 
were imprisoned ; where fierce gladiators, armed and impa- 
tient, waited their turn to distinguish themselves in mortal 
combat beneath the imperial eye ; where trembling martyrs 
heard the fierce cry of the assembled thousands that crowded 
the circus hungry for their blood, and demanding them to 
be brought forth. And here is one of the entrances through 
which the gladiators stepped forth into the arena beneath the 
excited gaze of a hundred thousand spectators. And I walked 
forth through it on a bright, beautiful spring day, paced 
across the arena, and stood in the centre of the Eoman 
Colosseum, beneath and before the emperor's seat upon the 
podium. 

No one who is at all familiar with the bloody scenes 
enacted on this spot and in this great ellipse, so famous in 
the world's history, can stand here for the first time without 
a thrill of emotion. Imagination at once recreates the vast 
circle ; and tier on tier of galleries rise above the visitor ; 
great swelling waves of spectators, all with their terrible 
eyes of eager anticipation centred upon one object : and 



238 THE COLOSSEUM AS IT "WAS. 

you feel that he who stood there was the focus of that ob- 
servation. You can almost imagine you hear the hum and 
murmur of the vast throng in the marble balconies that ring 
in the bloody battle-ground, — the muffled growls of the 
wild beasts behind their iron gratings in the lower wall of 
the arena, becoming more distinct in the hush of expecta- 
tion that succeeds, as the spectators lean forward in breath- 
less interest when the gladiators cautiously approach each 
other to cross weapons in deadly combat. 

Here stretches th^ great elliptical arena, strewn with its 
colored sand or sawdust, to afford firm footing for the com- 
batants and absorb the blood of the slain ; around it the 
first wall, the podium, fifteen feet in height, sheathed with 
smooth marble, its top lined with the gilded netting, — pro- 
tection against the spring of some lithe leopard or frantic 
tiger ; at intervals, pierced with openings for the entrance 
of gladiators or wild beasts, the latter apertures guarded by 
bronze portcullis gratings, which can be hoisted from above 
when the animals, hungered from long fast, are to be set at 
liberty. 

Upon the podium we see the elevated chair of the em- 
peror surrounded by his friends, magistrates in their curule 
chairs, persons of rank, praetors and consuls. All around 
this wall rise sculptures, statues, and decorations ; and as 
the eye sweeps over its circuit, it encounters the Priests of 
Jupiter and the Vestal Virgins, admitted to this favored 
position by virtue of their office. Two grand principal en- 
trances divide the circle of the podium, affording points of 
admittance for processions of gladiators, chariots for chariot- 
racing, or displays of pageantry. 

x\bove the podium rise the three great tiers or circles of 
seats, each separated from the others by a broad promenade 
or platform. In the first tier are fourteen rows of marble 
benches for senators and Eoman knights. Then, above 
this, sixteen serried rings of the plebeian populace ; then 
another division terrace or landing place, above which ten 



" THE CHRISTIANS TO THE LIONS ! " 239 

circles of the soldiery and pullati, the lowest orders of the 
common people, looked down ; and away up above all is the 
open gallery, where the men work the ropes that manage 
the huge canopy that shields the spectators from the sun. 
The occupant of the arena looked up at tier on tier of faces 
rising one above the other, far up, as it were, to the sky, 
holding him down below as the central point or focus of 
tlieir fixed gaze. 

Here, within the very space we stand upon, has the blood 
of the early Christians poured out its precious libation, and, 
while lying bound within their cells beneath the podium, 
they have heard the terrible cry that ran all around the vast 
area of, " The Christians to the lions ! the Christians to the 
lions ! " until pushed forth into the bloody circle at one 
side ; the bronze portcullis at the same time was hoisted 
opposite, and the starved and ferocious beasts were let loose 
upon them, or they fell beneath the arrow-shots of the sol- 
diery. Here the Emperor Commodus himself essayed the 
hand-to-hand combat. Of course, he was victorious and 
slew his adversary, — for woe be to him who shed imperial 
blood ; and his adversai-y's poor weapon, bent and shat- 
tered beneath the tempered steel of the heavy imperial 
sword, as it crushed down into the bloody dust the poor 
slave, cloven to the teeth ; and the roj'al conqueror strutted 
round in lion-skin mantle, imagining himself Hercules, amid 
the servile shouts of the spectators. 

Let not the reader unfamiliar with Roman history imagine 
that only two or three gladiators or half a dozen wild beasts 
were let loose at once in the amphitheatre. Had this been 
all, a far smaller space would have sufficed. This vast area 
was the result of a bloody appetite that grew upon what 
it fed, and a thousand savage beasts a day have fallen 
WMthin its dreadful circle ; gladiators by hundreds at a time 
have closed in deadly contest with each other, and piled the 
ground with scores of slaughtered combatants. 

Here Titus, at the dedication of the building, and on his 



240 HORROES OF THE ARENA. 

return from the conquest of Jerusalem, slaughtered five 
tliousand wild beasts; elephants fought with lions, tigers 
with bears, bulls with leopards ; and (striches, stags, boars, 
giraffes, and even cranes and pigmies, were brought into the 
arena. Here Hadrian celebrated his birthday by the slaugh- 
ter of a hundred lions and as many lionesses, besides eight 
hundred other wild beasts ; and the arena was so arranged, 
as has been recorded and since been proved by recent exca- 
vations, that it could be flooded with water and the spec- 
tators treated to a representation of a sea-fight, the combat- 
ants being gladiators in galleys that met upon the water 
and engaged in deadly contest. 

Invention seems to have been racked to present novelties 
to the people, as is evidenced by the varieties of combatants, 
the descriptions of which have come down to us. 

The Roman emperors, from Titus down to Honorius, a. d. 
403, for nearly four centuries, sat in this great theatre to 
view the terrible scenes enacted upon the inclosed space we 
were now pacing over. Titus, conqueror of Jerusalem, took 
delight in these gladiatorial contests. Domitian, his cruel 
brother, who delighted to see men killed for sport, and who 
spiked flies on a pin to amuse himself, sat upon the podium, 
and was in all his glory here in the gratification of his cruel 
and sensual spirit. Gladiatoi'ial battles, fierce and bloody 
sea-fights, and women as gladiators, were features of his en- 
tertainments. Trajan, after his triumph over the Dacians, 
looked down here upon ti'emendous struggles, in which 
thousands of combatants were engaged. Other frequenters 
of the Colosseum were Hadrian, his successor, already re- 
ferred to, under whom the Christian Bishop of Illyria yielded 
up his life on this spot ; the bloody Comniodus, who came 
so near meeting his merited death by the hands of the assas- 
sin in the narrow passage leading to his seat in this very 
amphitheatre, — a passage which some guides try to point 
out to you ; Caracalla, the paiTicide ; Philip, who, about 
A. D. 248, celebrated the one thousandth anniversary of the 



AN IMPERIAL JOKEK. 241 

foundation of Rome here with gladiatorial combats, games, 
and chariot-racing ; Claudius, conqueror of the Goths ; 
yEmilian and Aurclian, in whose reigns men were exposed 
to wild beasts, and those not devoured hewn down by 
gladiators. 

But amid these bloody recollections of the place, as we 
follow the line of emperors down, comes to us a record of 
another character, — that of a practical joke that is re- 
corded to have been perpetrated by the Emperor Gallienus, 
son of Valerian. The story runs that the emperor's wife, 
having been cheated in the purchase of some jewelry, fell 
into a violent rage with the jeweller, and demanded a terri- 
ble punishment upon him, and one that should be a warning 
to all jewellers in future of the danger of cheating an em- 
press. Gallienus assented ; the fellow was arrested, and 
sentenced to be thrown to the wild beasts in the arena. He 
was dragged there, half dead with fright, when the next 
games took place, and at the appointed time, when bis part 
of the performance was to occur, was thrust forth into the 
ring, where, half fainting with terror, he sank down upon 
the red sand as the bronze portcullis of the wild beasts' den 
was hoisted, when, instead of a hungry lion springing upon 
him, or a terrible tiger leaping forth, out walked an old hen ! 

In reply to the indignant demand for an explanation by 
the empress, her imperial consort declared that to be very 
simple ; for as the man had, according to her account, ter- 
ribly cheated her, so he had been terribly cheated in return. 

The Emperor Probus had, about a. d. 280, a grand wild- 
beast slaughter here, and at another time he had in the ring 
six hundred gladiators and seven hundred wild beasts. At 
length Constantino, in 330, made a law prohibiting gladiato- 
rial combats, but the people were too fond of the bloody 
spectacle to yield it. 

Seventy years after, however, when Christianity was 
nearly four centuries old, and the brutal gladiatorial combat 
was in full progress, a Christian monk leaped from the po- 
16 



242 SYSTEMATIC SIGHT-SEEING. 

dium into the arena, and, rushing amid the combatants, 
entreated them with praj^ers to separate. Enraged at the 
interruption, the Prsetor Aljbius bade the gladiators kill the 
intruder, and the monk Telemachus paid the penalty of his 
life for his noble endeavor ; but it was a successful one, for 
the Emperor Honorius abolished gladiatorial combats from 
that time ; and Telemachus, who was hewn down bj gladia- 
tors, marked with his death the day of the last gladiatorial 
combat in the Flavian Amphitheatre. 

The reader, who has followed the author in his visits 
to St. Peter's, the Capitol, the Forum, the Pantheon, the 
triumphal arches and columns, the Vatican, and Flavian 
Amphitheatre, will perhaps think he has seen a large portion 
of old Rome. While it may be admitted that the sights 
above enumerated have, to use the tourist's expression, been 
" done " systematically and pretty thoroughly, it will be 
found, if the visitor has any enthusiasm as a tourist, anti- 
quary, or student, that he has but taken the introductory 
steps towards making himself acquainted, with the old city ; 
and, let the appetite grow as it will upon what it feeds, the 
material that is still presented for fresh repasts is rich and 
almost inexhaustible : so that the traveller with tastes that 
are gratified by visits to the historic spots and ruins in this 
city of youthful, study and later dreams, finds, as did the 
author, the brief space of time that can be devoted to it 
from an ordinary European tour insufEcient to do justice to 
scarcely half that which it seemed should not be omitted. 

There must necessarily be much in foreign cities that will 
be hastily visited, or entirely omitted, by both tourists and 
authors, as each devotes the larger portion of his time to 
that branch of sight-seeing most in accordance with his 
tastes and desires. Hence, we read many descriptions to 
obtain complete accounts. 

The splendid marbles, vases, and other decorations that 
are seen in the museums of Rome, as having been found 
at Caracalla's Baths, naturally excite a desire to visit the 



caracalla's baths. 243 

ruins of those celebrated structures, — that is, with most 
people ; for there are exceptions, as in the case of one tour- 
ist, who told us he was " tired enough of old ruins without 
going to look at what was left of an old bath-house ! " 

And tliis expression brings us to the consideration that 
there are many that read, as well as many that travel, who 
have an incorrect idea of Roman baths ; deriving their im- 
pressions, probably, from baths of modern times, and sup- 
posing the ancient ones to be like the modern, except that 
the former were more luxurious and perfect in fittings and 
appointments. 

To obtain an idea of the extent of this Roman luxury, the 
tourist should by all means visit these interesting ruins ; and 
he will be astonished to find himself in the midst of arched 
passages, a long extent of ruined walls, great halls with 
lofty, shattered ceilings, and elegant mosaic floors with beau- 
tiful colored designs wrought in the pavement, — a collec- 
tion of ruins which requires the walk of an English mile to 
enccmpass them. The buildings must have been in the 
form of a large parallelogram, exterior or outer buildings of 
forty-two hundred feet, inclosing an inner or great court, 
which was cut up into various divisions. In this great 
inner court was a grand building on arches, which was 
seven hundred feet long by four hundred and fifty broad. 
These great buildings now present to the spectator only a 
series of roofless ruins, with great fragments of arches and 
walls ; and you may pass through what were once large 
and elegant halls and apartments, well defined by lines of 
masonry, from which the decorations and rich marbles have 
been stripped, as is plainly evident by fragments that here 
and there remain, or a patch of what was once one great 
sheet of mosaic pavement. 

The numerous halls and apartments of this extensive ruin 
will indicate to the visitor how complete must have been 
this grand establishment for the comfort and luxurious en- 
joyment of the people. First, for the purposes of bathing, 



244 AN ANCIENT POPULAR RESORT. 

there was every possible auxiliary and convenience that 
could be devised, — the Apodyterium, or disrobing room ; 
the Sudatorium, or vapor bath ; Tepidarium, or tepid bath ; 
Caldarium, or hot bath ; Frigidarium, or cold bath ; and the 
Unctuarium, or perfuming and anointing room, vs^here the 
bather was perfumed and anointed with oil. The remains 
of these, in various stages of ruin, are traced out, and 
also the vaults beneath, by which the water was heated 
by means of furnaces or stoves. Then there was one large, 
open swimming-bath, open to the sky above, in which, we 
were told, a thousand could bathe at once ; and indeed the 
space, as it looks now, appears as if very nearly that number 
might have done so. The Caldarium, or hot bath room here, 
was a circular. Pantheon-like building, lighted from above. 

But it was not alone for bathing and swimming that 
the people resorted here ; for there were, besides the baths 
of different temperature, gardens and fountains, libraries, 
rooms for discussions, theatres for athletic games, shady 
and pleasant walks, an arena for running and wrestling, re- 
freshment shops, perfume and fancy bazaars, and halls for 
poets to recite their verses, lecture-rooms and theatres for 
comedy performances, with seats for spectators ; all of 
which made the Baths a place of resort, not only for the 
cleansing and refreshment of ablution, but a great place of 
amusement, entertainment, and luxurious enjoyment of the 
Eoman people. These baths were said by ancient author- 
ity to be capable of accommodating sixteen hundred people ; 
and the price of a bath was a quadrans, the smallest piece 
of money, from Cicero down. 

Beautiful statues, rich frescos and mosaics, magnificent 
vases, great porphyry tubs for private bathing-rooms, some 
of which are now to be seen in the Vatican Museum, and ele- 
gant carvings and bas-reliefs, were among the splendoi's lav- 
ished upon the Baths, which were, as will be seen, a place 
of gathering for intellectual and physical recreation. All 
around and through these ruins are heaps of marble or ala- 



THE PALACE OF THE C^SARS. 245 

baster, or porphyry and granite chips, and the terhptation to 
bring away fragments of the colored mosaic pavements that 
liave recently been uncovered is such th^t tourists are con- 
stantly followed by a soldier or custodian to see that not a 
fragment is stolen. It would have been well had the sur- 
veillance commenced a little earlier, before the magnificent 
columns of granite were taken away by the popes and the 
Farnese family, causing the great vaulted roofs of the outer 
surrounding porticos to fall in and become a mass of shape- 
less ruins. The princes of th'e Farnese family were great 
ruin-plunderers, their palace being built of stones taken 
from the Colosseum, its two great fountains dropping their 
jets into granite basins seventeen feet in length and four 
feet deep, taken from the Baths of Caracalla, and a sar- 
cophagus from the tomb of Ceecilia Metella adorning (?) one 
of its porticos. 

The ruins known as the Palace of the Caesars are sur- 
rounded with such a halo of the old legendary Roman story, 
and present so many interesting specimens of Rome's early 
grandeur, remains of which were brought to light and 
exposed to modern gaze by the learned scholar, Pietro 
Rosa, under the direction of Louis Napoleon while emperor 
of P"'rance, that one shrinks from attempting any description 
on account of the temptation to recapitulate the events of 
Rome's earliest history, commencing with the somewhat 
mythical Romulus and Remus legends. It is sufficient to 
say, in the brief allusion that we shall make to these ruins, 
known as the Palace of the Cassars, and the recent excava- 
tions made, that they are of the most interesting character 
to the student from the fact of their being upon the Palatine 
Hill, which was the very foundation and site of the city of 
Romulus ; and that you are shown here, excavated far down 
below imperial Rome's ruins, buried under the buildings and 
palaces at the time of the Caesars, the massive wall of the 
four-sided Rome described by Tacitus, — enormous blocks 
of masonry. Here they show us the walls of Romulus, 



246 STREETS DESCRIBED BY OVID AND VIEGIL. 

built of a sort of lava rock, found precisely where the 
oldest chroniclers of Rome have located them. 

Indeed, these excavations have tended to verify much that 
had been for many years received as little else than mythical 
legends of early Rome. We can as tourists, however, but 
bestow a passing glance upon this compressed mass of his- 
toric ground, so to speak, which, although but a trapezium 
with two sides three hundred yards in length, and the other 
two four hundred, has, like the Forum, historic ruin enough 
heaped up in it, and is the scene of historic events enough 
to keep historians and antiquaries busy for centuries to 
come, as it has for centuries past. 

The house of the Emperor Augustus was here, but Domi- 
tian was the first one to build a palace, and, rambling among 
what appear to be mere jagged remnants of ruin, you are 
told they are the authenticated remains of his imperial edi- 
fice, and others are of the Palace of Tiberius ; or you walk 
along what was once the street Via Nova, described by 
Ovid ; or are shown where was once a gate mentioned by 
Virgil in his ^Eneid. Here was Cicero's house, and here 
Mark Antony and Caesar lived, — for it was for centuries an 
aristocratic quarter of Rome ; and here we see the sub- 
structure of the temple of Jupiter Victor, which was in all 
its magnificence two thousand years ago. Here is where 
Caligula walked, and Nero dwelt and enlarged his luxurious 
palace, his golden house, in the direction of the Colosseum. 

But the most interesting portions of the whole mass of 
ruins are the rooms of Roman dwelling-houses of the time 
of Augustus, that have been excavated ; and the apartments 
in the house of Livia, who was the divorced wife of the 
Emperor Augustus, which gives us back the patrician Roman 
house of eighteen hundred years ago. There is the vesti- 
bule, opening on to the atrium, or grand entrance hall ; then 
we are introduced into the chambers of honor, private liv- 
ing-rooms, and baths. Upon the walls of several of these 
apartments still remain beautiful decorative paintings, which 



THE HOUSE OF LIVIA. 247 

prove to us that that art has not advanced materially even in 
o\ir day ; for the superb coloring and beautiful patterns of 
the frescos which still remain would be ornamental and 
elegant in the decoration of any house of the present time. 
Galatea, upon the waves, with Nereids beside her, is repre- 
sented in one painting ; lo and Argus are represented in 
another ; and the decorative borders of scroll-work and small 
designs arc elegant and artistic, and look quite bright and 
fresh, though they are preserved, so it is stated, by a varnish 
which is made up after an old receipt described by Pliny, 
which is applied soon after their exhumation. The designs 
in delicacy of coloring are said to be superior to any of the 
Pompeiian discoveries. 

The House of Livia, on the Palatine, is the best preserved 
of any of those excavated, the shape of the apartments 
beiiig easily marked out by their remaining walls and lines 
of masonry. We inspected one, evidently a library, or 
students' recitation room, according to the old inscription 
upon the wall, which stated that "here an oration was to 
be spoken once a month." There were other rooms in 
which still remained strips of the elegant marble veneering 
in various colors, that once formed the dado work or "mop- 
board." Fragments of elegant pillars that had upheld lofty 
halls, and lines of strips of marble that once were the base 
of palaces, were scattered about, all that remains of the 
latter being great brick walls from which the costly marbles 
have been stripped ; and I went away, around, and below at 
the base of the hill, imagining that it was here, perhaps, 
that Romulus traced the pomoerium of his city; and here I 
looked upon the ancient arches of Tarquin's time, far below 
the ruins that I had just walked over, and above which, 
layer upon layer, rose the monuments of the pride of suc- 
cessive generations of Roman aristocracy, who for so many 
years, rather than leave this favored spot, reared their pal- 
aces over the crumbling ruins of the dwellings of their prede- 
cessors. 



248 THE APPIAN WAT. 

The first ride that one takes out of Kome is over that 
great historic road which rises first in his mind, built three 
centuries before the birth of our Saviour, but over which 
the Apostle Paul journeyed, on his way to Rome, as de- 
scribed in the Bible, in the twenty-eighth chapter of Acts, — 
the Appian Way. 

" And so we went to Rome. And from thence, when the 
brethren heard of us, they came to meet us as far as the Appii 
Forum and the Three Taverns ; whom when Paul saw he 
thanked God and took courage." 

It is a broad, straight road, paved with blocks of volcanic 
stone, and lined with shattered fragments of the splendid 
mausoleums and tombs of those who were once great, noble, 
and rich, but whose wealth and fame and history have per- 
ished like the crumbling monuments raised to commemorate 
them. 

A thorough inspection or description of the hundreds or 
perhaps thousands of remnants of tombs that line both sides 
of this great historical avenue into the Eternal City would 
be interesting to the antiquary, but tedious to the ordinary 
reader. In fact, the tourist who has inspected forums, am- 
phitheatres, and museums, and examined tolerably well- 
authenticated relics and sculptures of antiquity, which are, 
by association or otherwise, connected with great historic 
names, will hardly feel, on the Via Appia, like spending 
much time over what was once the handsome tomb of a Ro- 
man tax-gatherer, or that of Plinius Eytychius, erected by 
Plinius Zosimus, a freedman of Pliny the younger. 

But we were interested, as we were just starting out, to 
be told, at a certain point, that here stood the Porta Capena, 
where the survivor of the Horatii met his sister on his re- 
turn from the memorable combat, and slew her with a blow 
of his sword on seeing her express grief for one of the Cu- 
ratii who had fallen beneath his victorious blade ; and it was 
at this gate that Cicero was received by the Roman people 
and senate on his return from banishment, b. c. St. 



TOMB OF CECILIA METELLA. 249 

We halted to view the Tomb of the Scipios, from which 
the sarcophagus in the Vatican, already described in these 
pages, was taken. It is simply a series of narrow passages, 
like the tombs of any distinguished family, dark and to be 
explored with candles, and containing little now but the 
apertures where the sarcophagi were placed, the more pre- 
tentious monuments being, of course, elsewhere, these being 
but the catacombs for the reception of the mortal remains. 

The old Arch of Drusus, which is a heavy, plain structure, 
with a great mass of masonry on top of it (part of an aque- 
duct it was utilized to support), was erected in honor of 
Drusus, who was the father of the Emperor Claudius, and 
who died b. c. 9. We look up at it as we pass, as being 
the same structure beneath which the Apostle Paul passed 
on his entrance into Rome. About one hundred and fifty 
yards beyond this, on the right, was discovered the first 
Roman mile-stone of the Appian Way, which I had inspected 
with much interest in the square of the Capitol, not far 
from the head of the flight of steps leading up to it. 

The great, round, fortress-like tower that meets our gaze 
after a two-mile ride, is a familiar one — the Tomb of Csecilia 
Metella, wife of Crassus. This grand monument is one of 
the best preserved in Rome, and has defied time for two 
thousand years. It is seventy feet in diameter, sits upon a 
huge square foundation, and is built of large blocks of hewn 
stone ; it has a white marble frieze, decorated with bas- 
reliefs of the skulls of oxen and wreaths of flowers, and 
above it rise the battlements of a fortress, which were 
added when it was turned into a stronghold, in the thirteenth 
century. The marble coating, as usual, of this tomb was 
stripped off by Pope Urban VIII., and used to build and dec* 
orate the Fountain of Trevi in the city ; and the sarcophagus 
within, as has before been mentioned, was taken by the 
Farnese family. The inscription records that the monu- 
ment is to the daughter of Metellus Creticus, wife of the 
triumvir Crassus. A magnificent tomb it was for the 



250 ROMAN AQUEDUCTS. 

wealthiest Roman's wife, who, with all the money he ex- 
pended for the preservation of her precious dust, left us only 
the knowledge that she died his wife, and that this was a 
monument of his love and pride. 

A rusty-looking, mahogany-visaged custodian, with the 
remnants of what might have once been a bandit-peaked hat, 
but which was now badly crushed out of shape, and boasted 
of but one dirty green band, was anxious to show us some 
of the interior, and pointed to a narrow door in the wall ; 
but we were in no mood to explore the interior, which con- 
tains now but little of interest, and so left the would-be 
cicerone with his old hat in one hand and a silver lira in the 
other, grateful and gratified. 

After leaving the tomb of Caecilia Metella behind us, the 
other tombs and monuments became more numerous and 
more distinctly defined, several appearing to have been 
somewhat restored and we began to be more fairly out 
on the Roman Campagna, and also to enjoy " the prospect 
beyond the tomb." This we find in the broad Campagna, 
with its distant Sabine and Alban Hills, which have that 
beautiful violet blue tint so peculiar to distant mountains 
beneath this atmosphere. Then across the great silent 
plains you can mark the long, sinuous line of ruined arches 
that mark the aqueducts which once stretched from the coo! 
fountains of the Sabine Hills to the city, and conveyed their 
water thither, giving Rome pure drinking fluid, and supply- 
ing, doubtless, its great baths. 

These great aqueducts are other monuments of the wealth 
and wonders of the ancient city ; for here is one, the Aqua 
Marcia, constructed b. c. 146, which stretched its arches of 
masonry away out to the Sabine Mountains, a distance of 
fifty-six miles ; while the Aqua Claudia, put up by the Em- 
peror Claudius a. d. 50, was over fifty-eight miles in length. 
The water to-day in Rome is esteemed by tourists " the best 
in Europe," can be drank freely, and except, of course, in 
very hot weather, with safety. Down in the city proper the 



riCTUEESQUE VIEWS. 251 

Trevi water is esteemed the best. At the Ilotel Constanzi, 
being- on hig-lier ground, we were furnished with Marcia 
water, from the same source that the old Romans were 
served. For six or eight miles, stretched over the Campagna, 
do the ruined arches mark the course of these great public 
works of the Roman emperors ; and that the water supply 
was an all-important one is seen in the fact that good author- 
ities state that, when all the aqueducts were in operation in 
Rome (in the imperial epoch), the supply must have been 
fifty million cubic feet in twenty-four hours, or ten times the 
actual supply of London for the same time. Rome is to-day 
a city of fountains ; you find them at every turn and in 
every square, and there are said to be in modern Rome over 
si-K hundred, while ancient Rome boasted of thirteen thou- 
sand. 

We sat and looked out at the picturesque ruins of the 
aqueducts, which are so romantic in the real landscape as 
seen against the Italian slcy and brown hue of the Cam- 
pagna, with the hills behind them, and generally so hard 
and artificial in the attempts to represent them in pictures ; 
and realized, as we did so, why so many artists attempt the 
difficult task of rendering a counterfeit presentment of the 
beautiful proportions of their arcades upon the canvas. 

We pass many monumental remains, and halt near one 
which has a ba^-relief upon it, which is said to be near the 
spot where Seneca was put to death, according to Tacitus, 
" near the fourth mile-stone;" by Nero's orders ; here is 
another to Lollius Dionysius, who, it seems, was a banker 
in the Esquiline quarter, a wealthy man, and could afford to 
bo buried upon the Appian, and have a good monument ; 
then there is another to the Rabinius family, with three 
sculptured heads upon it ; Quintius, tribune of the 16th 
legion ; Demetrius, a wine merchant, and so one succeeds 
the other, some mere masses of masonry, which time has 
smoothed, melted, and squeezed into an irregular slab of 
stone, with a few indistinguishable characters upon it, and 



252 ST. PAUL EXTRA MUKOS. 

others mere slabs of conglomerate, mixtures of lime, pebbles, 
and brick, which were once probably sheathed with rich 
marbles, long since plundered to build the temples and 
palaces of those who came upon the stage of life so long 
after as to have no feeling of honor for the unknown sleep- 
ers whom the monuments were raised above. Enough re- 
mains, however, to show us that these mausoleums must 
have been grand in proportion and magnificent in design, 
some as fit for palaces for the living as sepulchres for the 
dead, for at the sixth mile-stone are the remains of a huge 
tomb called the " Round Castle," and which was said to be 
the tomb of Messala Corvinus, a poet, and friend of Horace, 
This tomb, which is larger even than that of Csecilia Metella, 
was also transformed into a fortress in the fifteenth century, 
and is now in ruins. 

The Church of "St. Paul Extra Muros," as it is called, a 
building of modern date, inasmuch as it was completed in 
1854, stands on the foundation of the magnificent basilica 
which was built to commemorate the martyrdom of the 
apostle, and which is said to mark the site of the place 
where he suffered and was buried. It is upon the edge of 
the Campagna, and in a part much affected by the malaria, 
except in the winter months ; hence, although but early in 
June, the author did not feel like devoting too much time 
in and about its interesting precincts. The first sight on en- 
tering the vast interior is one which excites an involuntary 
exclamation of admiration. Entering by one side of the 
transept, you look down the vast nave, which is three hun- 
dred and six feet long and two hundred and twenty-two feet 
wide, with four great ranges of granite pillars, eighty in 
number, surmounted by mosaic pictures of the Popes, a most 
striking and magnificent view. An enormous amount of 
wealth is piled up here in this building, the result of con- 
tributions levied on all Roman Catholic countries ; but, being 
modern, it contains but very few historic remains. As a 
superb interior, however, the effect is grand and imposing. 



A MAGNIFICENT MODERN TEMPLE. 253 

A great arch (a regular triumphal arch — in a chuixh — ) 
separates the nave from the transept. It is a relic of the 
old church, and was built by the Emperor Honorius in 440, 
has elegant mosaics of our Saviour and the apostles above 
its lofty curve, on each side. Riglit under this arch stands 
the baldachino, which is a sort of ornamental cupola, sup- 
ported by four elegant alabaster pillars, which were pre- 
sented by Mehemet Ali, Pasha of Egypt, — so it will be 
seen the Romish Church does not hesitate to incorporate the 
gift of the infidel Saracen into its holy edifices any more 
than tlio marble plundered from the ancient pagan. Under 
the baldachino rose the altar, and beneath is said to repose 
the great apostle. 

Although but little of ajiciont historic interest is to be 
found here to claim the visitor's attention, he cannot but be 
struck with the amazing richness of the building, and the 
vast amount of costly workmanship that surrounds him. 
The elegant malachite altars, presented by the emperor of 
Russia ; beautiful chapels ; colossal statues of saints ; ele- 
gant frescos ; the five great aisles ; magnificent colonnades, 
and the floor of elegant jointed and polished marble ; the 
elegantly wrought capitals of the pillars ; the richly veined 
marbles of various colors with which the walls are sheathed, 
— all show that modern Romish Christendom poured out its 
millions with a lavish hand to replace the church founded 
by Constantiue, rebuilt in 392, and which had stood for fif- 
teen centuries a monument to the great apostle until its 
destruction by fire in 1823. It is fresh, dazzling, and ele- 
gant, a modern temple, seeking to vie with those of more 
ancient times, and as such, one of the most interesting mon- 
uments in Rome. 

The real mother church of Rome, that of which the Pope 
is pastor, is not, as many suppose, St. Peter's, but the 
Church of St. John Lateran ; which has so much of a history, 
and the title it now bears, perpetuating as it does the name 
of an illustrious Christian and a celebrated pagan, gives it 
such an interest, that we cannot leave it out. 



254 constantine's cathedral. 

This was the first cathedral of Constantine, and it was 
near Trajan's Pillar that the emperor came forth, abjured his 
belief in the heathen gods, and declared himself a believer 
in the religion of Christ. Here, in the year 312, the power 
of Polytheism was finally broken, the religious belief that 
had built superb temples to the gods, had lived for centuries, 
that had made old Rome rich in architectural wonders, whose 
emblems are to us to-day creations of beauty that we vainly 
seek to rival, — here its power was broken ; and that of the 
Prince of Peace that had, despite persecutions, and trials, 
and oppressions, flourished and increased, received at last 
imperial recognition. The emperor not only declared that 
the priests of the Church of Christ should receive the same 
privileges as other priests, but his intention of building a 
Christian church in his Lateran palace estate, east of the 
Coelian Hill. His example of freedom of conscience and 
toleration was forgotten a few centuries after, when popes 
came to reign in place of emperors. 

Constantine's palace estate was on what was once the 
property of an old Roman family called Lateranus. Latera- 
nus had been expelled from the senate, exiled from Rome, 
but afterwards recalled, and finally put to death by Nero, 
who seized his property ; and the name of this estate, un- 
ju'Stly acquired, was by popular voice thus perpetuated. 

So much for historical facts ; and we now walk up to the 
entrance of the present edifice, of course by no means that 
of the old emperor. His church, in which he is said to 
have labored with his own hands, and which was consecrated 
in 324, stood nearly six centuries, but it was thrown down 
by an earthquake in 896 ; rebuilt again in 911, when it was 
dedicated to St. John the Baptist, and was described by Dante 
the poet as a glorious building ; but, four hundred years after, 
in 1308, it was almost entirely destroyed by fire. It was 
soon after rebuilt, but burned down again in 1360 ; then the 
great Petrarch sang of its departed glories. Pope Urban Y. 
was determined the memorable Christian temple should live, 



A STRUGGLE WITH TIME. 255 

and it rose under his hand to completion again in 1310 ; and 
tlic present church, with a mere remnant of the one re- 
built in 911, and various additions and alterations by differ- 
ent modern popes, is all they have remaining of Constantino's 
creation, after a thousand years' struggle with time. In 
fact, all that really remains is probably the site of the first 
church, though I doubt not that some accommodating cice- 
rone, if it were made worth his while, would discover for 
the curious visitor the foundation-stones of Constantino's 
cathedral : a task I was not disposed to undertake. Its 
histor}', it will be seen, is like other Roman monuments of 
antiquity ; the work of men's labor, ambition, and pride is 
levelled by time or vandalism, reared again to fall once more 
upon the original ruin, till, one above another, we have his- 
toric strata of masonry and architecture. 

We entered the church by a portico, passing a bad statue 
of Henry IV., and found ourselves in the transept, rich in 
its many-colored and beautiful marbles and great frescos 
above, representing scenes in the life of Constantino. The 
church is three hundred and eighty-four feet in length, and 
the nave, which is grand in its size and design, has five 
aisles ; but the magnificent ancient columns have been cov- 
ered with plaster and stucco work, and huge statues of the 
twelve apostles are in front of them in niches. 

Right in centre of the transept rises a very beautiful 
baldachino, or, as the guide-books call it, canopy, — they 
appear to be about the same thing. It is a sort of Gothic 
design, supported by four pillars and statues at the corners, 
very nicely executed. Below this, we were told were pre- 
served the skulls of St. Peter and St. Paul, and inside the 
great altar they pretend to have a table at which St. Peter 
celebrated mass ! 

In this transept we also saw the fine Altar of the Sacra- 
ment, and its four fluted bronze columns, which were, accord- 
ing to historical documents of the thirteenth century, brought 
from Jerusalem by the Emperor Titus after his destruction 



256 ROYAL CHAPELS. 

of that city. This church is rich in beautiful chapels open- 
ing out of it, which belong to various noble and wealthy 
Italian families. Each has its altar, and is fitted up and 
decorated according to the taste and wealth of the owners. 
The Corsini chapel is one of the most richly fitted, being 
elegantly built in form of a Greek cross, and beautiful in 
its marble decorations and sculpture. The elegant altar- 
piece is in mosaic work, the walls are superbly inlaid, and a 
bronze statue of Pope Clement XII., of this family, guai'ds 
a porphj^ry sarcophagus which he took from the pagan Pan- 
theon for his Christian coffin. The sarcophagi of the other 
members of the Corsini family are in a vault beneath this 
chapel. Another beautiful chapel is that of the Torlonia 
family, rich in marble, gilding, and frescos, containing a 
fine statue of Piety ; and over its magnificent altar hangs 
a fine picture of a Descent from the Cross, 

In and out of these rich and ostentatious displays of 
human pride the visitor passes till he is surfeited with the 
parade of marbles, altar-pieces, crucifixions, and monuments. 
A two hours' visit is double what most tourists give it, and 
unless you have recourse to notes and memoranda, you will 
be likely to carry away the usual confused recollection a 
tourist does after following a cicerone speaking none too 
perfect English, and rattling ofi"' his explanations in parrot- 
like style, while you vainly seek in your guide-book for par- 
ticulars which ought to be there. 

I preserve two extremely pleasant experiences of our 
visit to the Lateran distinctly in memory. One is the beau- 
tiful view from one of its porticos, at one end of which is 
Constantino's statue, colossal in size, said to have been dis- 
covered at his Baths, and the only authentic likeness of him. 
This view from the portico takes in the Alban Hills on one 
side and the Sabine Mountains on the other, and between, 
on the level campagna, you see the picturesque and ruined 
arches of the aqueducts in the distance ; nearer, Rome, 
ancient and modern, is below us, — all forming a most inter- 
esting picture. 



THE SANTA SCALA. 257 

The other exporionce is the fine old Cloister of the Mon- 
astery, into which the custodian takes you by a side-door — 
a beautiful, antique-looking- inclosure, surrounded by ancient 
arches that are supported by twisted or fluted columns, sur- 
mounted by a frieze of fiue old colored marbles. This 
cloister was built in the twelfth century', and from beneath 
its shadowy arches you look out upon the courtyard it 
incloses, which is rich with wild roses and fragrant flowers, 
and among- them was a curious circular well, adorned with 
crosses and carvings, a production of the sixth or eighth 
century. This quiet old sanctuary had the very odor of reli- 
gious meditation about it in all its harmonious lines of grace- 
ful architecture. 

" And what is this ? " asked we one day, as our carriage, 
which at last we allowed to be driven from point to point by 
our guide at his own will on a sight-seeing excursion, 
halted, and we entered a building and found ourselves upon 
a marble floor from which ascended a central and two side 
flights of stairs. But a second glance told us at once, if the 
guide had not promptly answered, "The Santa Scala, — 
the Holy Staircase, Messieurs." 

An antiquity indeed is this celebrated flight of steps, if 
not an authenticity, and I was glad to look upon the twin 
relic, if it may be so expressed, of the bronze statue of St. 
Peter, for they were always associated together in my mind 
from the wearing out they received from the touch of the 
faithful, — the great bronze toe of the statue from constant 
kissing, and this holy staircase, deeply worn by the knees 
of devout pilgrims. 

For fifteen hundred years these steps have been piously 
reverenced by the Papal Church^ as being those which our 
Saviour ascended from the liouse of Pilate in Jerusalem after 
trial ; they were brought to Rome by Helena, mother of the 
Emperor Constantino, in the year 326. 

The entrance hall, or portico, whence these steps ascend, 
has three lofty arches. On each side of the principal one, 
17 



258 ASCENDING THE HOLY STAIES. 

beneath which is the holy staircase, are two fine marble 
groups, one representing Judas betraying his Master with 
a kiss, and the other said to be " Ecce Homo," although 
the inscription upon the pedestal gives no indication to that 
effect. The steps themselves are twenty-eight in number, 
and are never profaned by footstep, being ascended only 
upon the knees by the devotees, who receive certain indul- 
gences from the church after having performed the act, and 
paid for it ; which latter act I saw one poor exhausted-look- 
ing woman do with a whole handful of copper coin, which 
she threw in through a grating, after reaching the top of 
the staircase ; rising with difficulty to her feet from the 
tiresome knee journey. 

The way the pilgrimage is performed is as follows : The 
penitents, taking a rosary in their hands, kneel upon the 
first of two marble steps, say a prayer at each, and then 
come to a broad landing-place, on each side of which are 
fonts of holy water, from which, having moistened their 
fingers, they make the sign of the cross, and then proceed, 
rosary in hand, to the lower one of the holy steps. These 
are marble, covered with wood, with the exception of small 
apertures, rimmed with brass, through which a spot of the 
step may be touched by the lips ; and it is averred that the 
covering has to be renewed yearly. Up these steps, one 
by one, upon the knees, the worshipper ascends, kissing 
each step through the aperture as he comes upon it, and 
saying a prayer over his rosary before leaving it for the 
next. About three-quarters of an hour is consumed in get- 
ting to the top in the prescribed manner, and I noticed that 
the wood covering was well worn by the knees of the wor- 
shippers, and the brass rims of the apertures had been pol- 
ished to glittering brightness by the frequent contact of 
their lips. 

Martin Luther once began the ascent of tliis staircase, 
step after step, in tlie usual manner, painfully, upon his 
knees ; but when half-way up, he suddenly seemed to hear 



TEMPLE OF VESTA. 259 

the whisper of a divine voice say, " The just shall live by 
faitli," and he rose to his feet, descended, and left the place. 

The dark, vaidted ceiling above the staircase is covered 
with frescos, and at the top is an altar, above which rises 
the scene of the crucifixion. On either side of the holy 
staircase are others, which we ascended in the usual manner 
without ceremony, and from the top of which we were per- 
mitted to look through a grating into the Sanctum Sanc- 
torum, — so holy a place that none less than the Pope can 
officiate at its altar. 

It is a picturesque old interior, with Gothic arches, twisted 
columns, and ornamented ceiling, and contains an altar 
upheld by porphyry columns, above which is a silver casket 
containing relics. 

We descended, and gratified a round, jolly-looking monk 
so much by buying some of his card photographs of the 
place, that when he smiled and bade us adieu, he seemed 
more like an English Boniface in a dark cowl than a 
ghostly brother of the adjoining convent. 

I knew the little temple of Vesta the moment we halted 
by it, and had seen it so often reproduced in miniature in the 
fancy-goods stores at home, that here in reality it seemed 
like an exaggerated inkstand. It is a beautiful little cir- 
cular building of the time of Trajan, consisting of a sort 
of inner core, only twenty-six feet in circumference, sur- 
rounded by an outer perfect circle of beautiful Corinthian 
columns, each thirty-two feet in height, the outer circle 
being one hundred and fifty-six feet in circumfei'ence. 

One of the pillars is broken off near the base, and the 
ancient roof of this temple, long since gone, is replaced by 
an incongruous one of red tiles ; while our idol, as to its 
being a temple of Vesta, is thrown down by the antiqua- 
ries, who declare it to be nothing of the sort, but more 
likely that of Hercules. 

Not far from here ai'e many interesting points. Our 
guide took us to all that now remains of the old Palatine 



260 THE BRIDGE OF HORATIUS. 

Bridge, now called Ponte Boito. A modern suspension 
bridge connects with what remains of the arches of an 
ancient bridge which was carried away by an inundation ; 
but it is interesting to know, when you get over ajS near the 
centre of this bridge as you can, that you stand over the 
site of the bridge begun by JEmilius Lepidus b. c, 180, and 
finished by Scipio Africanus forty years after; and from 
here the guide will point out fragments that look like rocks 
above the water, which is all that remains of the oldest 
bridge in Eome, — the structure built by Ancus Martius, 
B. c. 639, and one interesting to every schoolboy who has 
read or declaimed Macaulay's ballad of ancient Eome, 
" Horatius ; " for this is all what remains of the bridge 
which Horatius Codes and his two brave companions de- 
fended against the whole Etruscan army under Lars Por- 
sena. Horatius, in the ballad, says to his consul : 

" Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, 
With all the speed ye may ; 
I, with two more to help me, 
Will hold the foe in play. 
In yon strait path a thousand 
May well be stopped by three." 

And the three defended the passage and "kept the 
bridge " till it was hewn down beneath them, leaving the 
sweeping Tiber a barrier between Eome and the ad- 
vancing foe. 

Not far from this point we went down near the river's 
bank to see that wonderful work of ancient Eome, tlie 
Cloaca Maxima (Largest Sewer). It speaks well for the 
sewer-builders of ancient Eome that their work, after 
twenty-four hundred years, should still be performing the 
functions for which it was originally intended. There is 
little to be seen at the point we visited except three con- 
centric courses of stone in the form of an arch, like what 
any one would suppose the outlet of a large drain to re- 
semble. This great sewer extended from the Forum to the 



GUIDO'S AURORA. 261 

Tiber, and was written of by Pliny as "an immense work," 
and he states that against earthquakes and the assaults of 
time "the work of Tarquin remains impregnable." And 
now, more than a thousand years after Pliny, still the 
Cloaca "remains impregnable." 

Rome's palaces are rich in art, and two which no tourist 
omits are the Barberini and the Rospigliosi. The chief 
attraction of the latter is the great picture, Guide's Aurora, 
a poetically treated subject familiar to all. Apollo in his 
car, surrounded by the twelve hours hand in hand, and 
preceded by a cherub bearing the torch of day, starts across 
the heavens to begin the day. Thfs picture is on the ceil- 
ing of a small pavilion, or casino, as it is called, which we 
approached through a beautiful garden over a walk bordered 
by lemon-trees laden with the yellow fruit. 

In the beautiful tints of the clouds with the hues of the 
approaching light, the spirited action of the horses of the 
car of Phoebus, as they start off upon their aerial journey, 
the graceful poses of the figures that surround the car, 
and that of Apollo himself, as he bends forward against the 
morning breeze that blows back his flowing drapery, the 
exquisite and harmonious blending of colors is so smooth 
and perfect that, as you continue to gaze upward at the 
picture, you can almost imagine you are looking at the clouds, 
and that the glorious car will whirl away on its mission to 
open day to the world below, while you are looking at it. 

It is somewhat tiresome to the lover of art who may 
wish to study a painting like this for any length of time, to 
be compelled to gaze directly upward, unless, perhaps, he 
may be able to do so from a couch. An arrangement of 
small mirrors upon a table below enables the spectator to 
view the reflection of this grand tableau without the fatigue 
which a lengthened upward gaze inflicts, and copies by 
different artists were placed about the room for sale, there 
being generally one or two engaged in copying the picture, 
it being one that is both popular and salable. 



262 GUIDO AND RAPHAEL. 

The reader is happily spared any description of the im- 
mense Barberiui ' Palace, for the author, save the picture 
gallery, saw comparatively little of it. Such world- 
renowned pictures, however, as Guide's Beatrice Cenci and 
Raphael's Fornarina, are creations which, once seen, one 
remembers a lifetime, and whose wonderful effects are such 
as to render description tame, and the effort to convey 
them powerless. 

That simple, sad, but beautiful face of Beatrice, upon 
which deep sorrow and exquisite loveliness are united ; the 
large, lustrous brown eyes ; the light hair falling from the 
head drapery ; the sad expression and history written in 
every lineament, are indescribable and strikingly impressive. 
The legend that Guide painted it in prison the night before 
her execution, and her sad story and tragic fate, lend addi- 
tional interest to the picture. 

The Fornarina, by Raphael, is the figure of a beautiful 
woman uncovered to the waist. She has large, dark, and 
lustrous eyes, rich, dark hair, around which a shawl is 
twisted, a beautiful neck and bust, and is in all respects an 
elegant figure in the full bloom of womanhood, and is said 
to be a beautiful woman of low birth who was beloved by 
the artist. The picture is certainly the representation of a 
beautiful woman, and calculated to remove some of the sad 
reflections excited by a perhaps too lengthened gaze at the 
picture of Beatrice Cenci. 



THE PINCIAN HILL. 263 



CHAPTER XII. 

Difficult indeed is the task to finish Rome, hard indeed 
,the necessity to leave the city of one's longings, with its 
wonders half explored, its lessons half studied, and its 
monuments with but brief acquaintance. But, labor as the 
ordinary tourist may in the brief space of the few weeks 
generally allowed, if he be anything of an antiquarian, a 
lover of art, a student of history, or he who delights in 
reminiscences of the past, each day of his experience will 
prove to him how inexhaustible is the field before him. 

We return from our farewell rides to the Pincian, whence 
we have looked down upon more modern Rome, and met 
the modern carriages of to-day, with their gay occupants in 
Parisian costume chatting and laughing gayly, and the 
promenading crowds with their odd mixture of students in 
cloaks of gray or sombre colors, with a sprinkling of 
monks and beggars. The Pincian Hill, with its beautiful 
garden, with cypresses and pines, elegant plants and 
flowering shrubs, and pleasant walks, whence we looked 
upon the city, and beyond it the broad campagna, — the 
Pincian, where are the ornamental bas-reliefs, pretty col- 
umns, fountains in cosy nooks, and where Rome's modern 
aristocracy disports itself of an afternoon, — the Pincian, 
that was the site of the famous villa of LucuUus, who won 
fame and wealth in his campaigns in Asia, and entertained 
Cicero and Pompey here most royally and extravagantly, 
and from the terrace of which we took a new view of St. 
Peter's and the castle of St. Angelo. 

Then we part with regret from the old Palatine, with its 
freshly uncovered ruins, itself the very foundation of Rome, 
a concrete mass of historic rock and soil, every foot of 



264 FAREWELL TO ROME. 

which we walk over identified with Rome's story ; and at 
every point, gaze where we v^ill, rise shattered fragments 
and remnants of Rome's history and glory. We must take 
a farewell gaze at the Colosseum, enduring monument of 
luxury, cruelty, and power, the Forum, the very heart of 
old Rome, and stand once more upon the hill of the Capitol, 
look over the Tarpeian Rock and at the ruined columns, the 
great triumphal arches slowly yielding to the tooth of time 
in the great city of the past, where art, power, and great- 
ness existed, that left their impress upon the woxld which 
is felt even to this day. 

You feel that the task is but half accomplished, nay, but 
scarce begun, there are so many more ruins to be explored, 
monuments to be studied, churches to be visited, sites of 
historic events to be sought out, erroneous impressions to 
be corrected, antiquities to be seen, and curious researches 
to be made. But these are the emotions that press upon 
the mind of all who become interested in Rome, and who 
leave it as a mine half opened, a banquet scarce tasted, or 
a grand volume with but a glance at its pages. Rome is 
the museum of the world, the focal point of interest to stu- 
dent, artist, and antiquary. He who loves what is beauti- 
ful, and looks with admiration upon that which is great, 
will enter the portals of the City of cities eagerly, linger 
there long and lovingly, and depart reluctantly. 

I had but brief time for shopping in Rome, and, as a 
general thing, found shopkeepers there like other' Italians, 
ready always to charge a foreigner — especially an Amer- 
ican — nearly double the price they intended to take. The 
gay-colored Roman scarfs, cameo cuttings, bronze designs 
of Roman ruins, Etruscan jewelry, mosaics, and stone cam- 
eos, are the articles that tourists buy as the portable nov- 
elties of the city. The wax or composition beads known 
as Roman pearls are another ; but there are two kinds of 
these, a genuine and a counterfeit. The latter, although 
pretty to look at, have an unpleasant way of half melting 



FROM THE SUBLIME TO THE RIDICULOUS. 265 

upon a lady's neck by the heat, and inclosing- her in a neck- 
lace of paste. The sculptors' and painters' studios claim 
the attention of many Americans visiting- Rome ; and while 
some excellent works of art and beautiful copies are ob- 
tained, it is also true that some atrocious caricatures, espe- 
cially of the painter's art, are shipped from Rome to the 
United States, that are not worth the expense of trans- 
portation. 

It is rather a sudden descent from a flight of the imagina- 
tion, after you have passed by temples and beneath tri- 
umphal arches, and when you are tramping over a dusty 
road, thinking that this ground once shook beneath the tread 
of Caesar's buskined legions, to have your meditations 
rudely disturbed by a voice from one side of the causeway, 
" Blag yer boots, sir ? " 

You start as waking from a dream. Is it not a dream, 
and did you hear aright ? By the side of the street kneels 
a swarthy Italian boy : his jet-black eyes sparkle beneath 
his ragged cap, as he holds out a veritable shoe-brush in one 
hand and points to just such a shoe-box as you have seen 
the shoeblacks of London and New York use, and again says, 
" Blag yer boots?" The fellow's limited stock of English 
was successful, and I shook off the last dust of Rome from 
my feet under the manipulations of a Roman bootblack, 

Rome is left behind, far behind ; and from the portal of the 
railroad station, as we emerge in Venice, we see the group of 
gondolas — water-omnibuses to the hotels — crowded round 
the landing, and get the fresh breeze of the Adriatic, grate- 
ful and cool after a long and somewhat fatiguing ride. 

Again, on the luxurious cushions of our little water-car- 
riage, the lusty arms of the gondoliers are sending us for- 
ward upon the Grand Canal, beneath the tall palaces that 
lift their lofty walls from its bosom. 

" Hotel Danieli, Monsieur ? " inquires the gondolier, 

" No," (forewarned, forearmed,) The Danieli has a 
broad piazza, or expanse of stone, a promenade directly in 



266 VENICE. 

front of it, the resort of fruit-sellers, gondoliers, loungers, 
and promenaders, Who laugh, talk, sing, chatter and patter, 
far past midnight, and begin very early the next morning : 
so that, during the season of open windows, one may easily 
fancy himself sleeping iu the street, or rather trj'ing to ; 
for, unless accustomed to slumber upon the Exchange, or in 
the midst of a town-meeting, the enjoyment of such refresh- 
ment will be found impossible. 

" Grand Hotel," — an hotel altered from two palaces 
(they are all altered from palaces in Venice), on the Grand 
Canal, opposite the Church of the Santa Maria della Saluta. 

The waters of the canal plash up to the marble steps of 
this house, and we sit in the deep windows of our salon be- 
neath the shelter of Venetian awnings, and look down upon 
boats passing and repassing on the tide beneath us. From 
the rear of the house, through narrow streets and tortuous 
alleys, breaking out every now and then into open squares, 
the pedestrian may reach the Rialto, the Piazza San Marco, 
or other points of interest. Curious indeed is the expe- 
rience of going from point to point on foot in Venice, which 
cue may do if he will make the necessary detours. You 
pass through streets scarce ten feet in width, with high 
buildings on either side, — effectual protection against the 
rays of the sun. Every now and then the street is crossed 
by a canal, over which will be thrown a light iron or arched 
stone bridge ; and, as you halt upon it in crossing, you may 
look between the tall buildings, up and down the watery 
highway, that has none'of the poetry of the "Blue Adriatic " 
about it, but reminds one, in its sombre shade, of a stream 
of ink rather than water. 

Here, on these side canals, one sees some of the domestic 
and every-day life of the Venetians, — that is, such of it as is 
out of doors. Water-boats are pumping drinking-water into 
somebody's residence, replenishing the great tank kept to 
contain it ; a garbage-boat is receiving its unsavory con- 
tents at back doors ; another rusty old boat has brought 



EXPLORING THE BY-WAYS. 267 

home to a house a day's marketing-, which seems to consist 
chiefly of onions and vegetables ; and another, laden with 
stone and bricks, is being laboriously sculled along- by a 
single grayheaded old oarsman. Over a bridge, and your 
narrow street goes on a score of feet, and then may end at 
a blank wall, if you have neglected to s\yerve to the open- 
ing that came into it at right or left, but which appeared to 
lead, as it sometimes does for a short distance, in an oppo- 
site direction to that in which you desire to go ; or you fol- 
low on, having, as you supposed, left the Grand Canal behind 
you, and come out, after various windings and bridge-cross- 
ings, upon its shore again, some fifty or sixty rods above 
or below where you started from. Some of these narrow 
streets are far from being agreeable, either to the eye or 
to the olfactories. 

Filthy wine and beer shops, reeking with fumes of vile 
tobacco ; cheap cook-shops, where dirt and garlic reign tri- 
umphant, in neighborhoods where tinkers' shops, dirty meat, 
and vegetable stores stand side by side with old-clothes 
shops, out of which peer the sparkling black eyes and unmis- 
takable nasal organ of the Hebrew, are crossed by canals that 
are narrow and odoriferous, and upon which garbage and 
straw are floating about. In the doorways are old people 
and ragged children, who gaze wonderingly at you as you 
hasten along, till the alley strikes into an open square down 
which the garish sun is pouring, and in the middle of which 
is a well, witlWialf a dozen women waiting about it, with 
copper buckets or kettles for a supply of water. 

On first arrival in Venice, the tourist from the interior, 
upon entering his apartments, the windows of which, if 
they look out upon the Grand Canal, are sure to be thrown 
wide open, is more than likely to inquire, "What is this 
smell ? " somewhat dank or musty, not dreaming it is but 
the scent of sea-water to his unaccustomed olfactories, which 
he very soon ceases to notice. But as, on landing from my 
first sea-voyage, I inhaled with pleasure the fragrance of 



268 GONDOLIEES. 

green turf and the welcome earthy perfume of the land, so 
was there a similar sensation on visiting the Public Garden 
of Venice, a spot a short distance above the Arsenal, where 
the novel sight of green turf and trees, and the scent of 
grass, flowers, and herbage, are grateful to the senses, after 
long experience of gazing upon marble and masonry, and 
inhaling the saline breeze that comes up the canal. 

I had seen nearly all the sights of Venice which tourists 
visit, and enjoyed in reality the pictures of imagination, and 
was dreamily floating down the canal with a friend in his 
private gondola, manned by two stalwart gondoliers. A fan- 
ciful, fresh-water, sailor uniform of blue breeches reaching 
to their knees ; white shirt, with broad, blue-edged collar, 
and Leghorn hat, with broad, blue ribbons with floating 
ends ; black shoes, and spotless white stockings reaching to 
the bottoms of the pantaloons, which were loosely fastened 
just below the knee with three little silver buttons ; sailor- 
knotted neckerchiefs loose about the broad, ample collar ; 
two lightly-touched olive complexions ; deep, dark eyes, 
wavy hair, and pencilled moustaches, — and you have a pic- 
ture of my friend's gondoliers : fellows whose muscular 
arms, by an imperceptible turn of the oar, would write an 
elegant calligraphic flourish in the water, which would flow 
swiftly past you in wreaths, foam, bubbles, and water-lines, 
as graceful as smoke in the summer atmosphere. The regu- 
lar rise and fall of their dripping oars was as rhythmic in 
cadence as perfect poesy, when they shot their graceful 
craft down the Grand Canal, or wound in and out the 
aqueous highways that thread the ancient city ; their warn- 
ing shouts, ere rounding the angle of a palace wall, as mu- 
sical as the notes of an operatic tenor. 

There is no better place, no more fitting time, for dreamy, 
poetic imagination, for luxurious laziness, for misty musing, 
sentimental castle-building, for realization of youthful ro- 
mance on a moonlight evening, than in one of these easy 
water-cradles, like the one in which we were reclining, with 



SCENES OX THE GEAND CANAL. 269 

its perfumed morocco cushions, its pretty awning with 
silken hangings and lattices, in place of the black, ugly- 
looking sort of cabs of the ordinary gondola ; while the 
soft matting of colored wools beneath our feet, the padded 
and cushioned sides of that part of the boat in which we 
sat, rendered it a cosy nest in which one could recline at 
ease in almost any position he chose to assume. 

We had watched a pi'ocession of gondolas with colored 
lanterns float down from the Piazza, headed by one with 
guitars that were tinkling a melody that sounded like musi- 
cal water-drops amid the swish of oars, and had sent off 
with a dozen copper pieces the two beggars who row round 
in a gondola playing a hand-organ, and were watching the 
reflection of the tall palaces in the glassy mirror beneath the 
kindly shadow which rendered decay picturesque and the 
hue of age and green rime of neglect invisible ; and the sil- 
ver atmosphere seemed to softly descend from the most 
lovely blue that ever colored the vault of heaven. 

The tall, elaborately ornamented fa9ades of the palaces of 
old Venetian families whose very names are forgotten, rose 
like ghosts of the past : here and there lights sparkled in 
the deep windows ; and at one, more brilliant than the rest, 
was a gay group on the marble steps, bidding adieus beside 
the two tall vases at either side, ere stepping into the fairy 
craft that awaited them, — not lords and ladies of the 
Venetian court, with purple and velvet and silks, swords 
and stilettos, but, alas for imagination in these degenerate 
days ! only a party of tourists, with tourist-pouches slung 
across their shoulders, and parasols and fans in hand, leav- 
ing their hotel, once a palace, to be sure, but now reduced 
to baser uses. 

We glide down close to the stone steps that are at the 
foot of the platform, upon which stands the fanciful and su- 
perb Church of Santa Maria della Saluta, whose huge 
arches and majestic dome rise like a marble mountain above 
the canal, and our gondoliers rest on their oars just beyond 



270 ITALIAN MUSIC. 

it for a few moments ; for a gondolier load of students halts 
at the hotel opposite to sing to the foreign guests, and we 
to listen to the sweet music of their Italian voices. 

It always seems as if there was a liquid music in the 
Italian v^oice — at least in that of singers — which is not 
possessed by those of other nationalities. " Viva Italia, 
viva el Bey ! " is the patriotic song that brings out sweet 
tenor and vigorous bass in harmonious unison at the close 
of each stanza ; and then, after a brief pause, they drop 
into the delicious song of " Santa Lucia," in which their 
voices blend together like the strains of a huge music-box, 
as the chorus comes floating across the water to us. There 
is a momentary hush as the last chord ceases ; then vocifer- 
ous English and American applause and clapping of hands 
from the hotel piazza and windows, and, we are sure, a plen- 
tiful shower of franc-pieces. A nod to our boatmen, and 
the gondola shoots away in obedience to the graceful and 
noiseless thrusts of their skilfully wielded oar-blades. 

And now come in view tlie Columns of St. Theodore and 
the Winged Lion, standing out black and upright in the 
moonlight, with the figures upon their summits sharply cut 
against the blue moonlit sky, as we lie gazing at them from 
our luxurious couch. 

We look through the little square of the Piazzetta that 
leads to the great Square of St. Mark beyond, — on one 
side the Doge's Palace, with its short, thick columns and 
pointed arches, upholding another row more light and grace- 
ful, crowned with quatrefoils ; on the other, beneath the 
colonnades, sparkle lights from the cafes, and beyond the 
square is alive with them beneath the porticos ; and the 
shadows falling from the buildings sharply define one side 
of the broad pavement in the bright moonlight, as though 
shaded by crayon. Gondolas are arriving and departing ; 
groups landing for a half hour's lounge in the Piazza, to sip 
coffee and smoke cigarettes, or eat ices, in front of the cafes 
in the square, while the luxurious melody of Strauss waltzes 



THE HEAKT OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC. 271 

from the band fills the old historic inclosure with delicious 
strains. 

The scenes of power, cruelty, and greatness that have 
been enacted here, between the two tall columns that stand, 
sentinel-like, upon the shore, are in themselves a history ; 
for here once rose the fearful scaffold upon which the 
masked executioner swung his broad blade, in obedience to 
the decrees of the fearful Council. Here Cooper, in his 
" Bravo of Venice," locates the final scene of his story : — 
" Between the lofty pedestals of St. Theodore and the 
Winged Lion lay the block, the axe, the basket, and the 
sawdust, — the usual accompaniments of justice in that 
day. By their side stood the executioner." 

A little black mass of gondoliers and loungers now occupied 
the very spot, forming a circle round a fellow who stood upon 
a stool haranguing them, and offering some cheap article for 
sale. The music from the band suddenly ceased, the chatter 
of many voices in the Square and the patter of many feet upon 
the pavement became audible, and the deep boom of the bell 
came from the great clock-tower, as the bronze giants upon 
its summit struck with their hammers the sonorous metal. 
Our conversation naturally turned upon the former greatness 
of the Bride of the Adriatic, her commercial power, wealth, 
and pride, — from the climax of her power and splendor at 
the end of the sixteenth centuiy till, in the seventeenth 
and eighteenth, she lost Cyprus, Candia, and the Pelo- 
ponnesus, and her commercial prosperity gradually dimin- 
ished. Then came Bonaparte as conqueror, wrencher open 
of inquisitorial prison-cells, and breaker of tyrannical fetters 
in 179T ; then the revolution of 1848, the hated Austrian 
yoke in 1 849, under which she chafed for sixteen years ; and 
finally free Italy, under Victor Emmanuel, in 1866. 

The scenes that had been enacted here in and about this 
great Square, this heart of the old Republic, have been the 
theme of poet, novelist, and historian ; it is one of those 
spots in the world that you seem to be well acquainted with 



272 "how many a tale their music tells." 

when you first set foot in it, and find each familiar monu- 
ment marking the spot of historic pictures that are familiar 
to all, though they have long since taken their place in the 
dim gallery of the past. 

It was here we talked over the stories of old Venice, as 
told by poet and historian, while our gondoliers slowly urged 
our light craft along close to shore, and again the great bell 
boomed beneath the giants' stroke — two ! 

" Not two o'clock ? " 

" No," replied my companion; "that is the chime for the 
second quarter, the half hour ; and do you know that there 
was a time when I thought that great bell would be the last 
one I should ever hear, and that it would tell off the last 
hours of my existence ? " 

" Indeed," said I ; " then you must have had an attack 
of fever in Venice, and lodged in the Hotel Belle Vue, next 
the Clock Tower." 

" No," said my companion, lighting a fresh cigarette, "I 
lodged in no hotel, but in one of the strongest prison-cells 
of the 'Council of Ten.'" 

" One of the prison-cells ? Ah ! for amusement, I pre- 
sume ? " 

"Not in the least; it was anything but amusement, I 
assure you, for I was imprisoned against my will there but 
a few years since, and in one of the cells in which state 
prisoners were confined three hundred years ago." 

"You surprise me," said I. "Pray tell me how it chanced, 
the cause of your imprisonment, and how you were released : 
by the consul, I suppose ? " 

" No," said my friend, smiling as he sent the little smoke 
wreaths into the air through the open lattice ; " you will 
never guess it. But, singular as it may appear, I was im- 
prisoned without legal proceedings of any kind, and for no 
crime, debt, or offence ; and I believe, for a time at least, I had 
some idea of what must have been the sufferings of political 
offenders in those terrible cells in which they were incar- 
cerated by their cruel judges." 



A SINGULAR STORY. 273 

I was more than over surprised at this modern exercise 
of ancient Venetian tyranny, and of course urged my friend 
to give me the particulars, which he at once proceeded to do. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

" You remember," said my friend, " that when I first 
came to Venice, I remained here for quite a length of time, 
indeed until the waning season warned me to take my de- 
parture. Like all young, enthusiastic, and romantic tourists, 
Venice was a city of romance and a fairy land to me, I re- 
peopled every old palace with the senators or nobles who 
formerly dwelt in it, and whose deeds and history I was 
familiar with long before I had stepped within their ancient 
habitations. St. Mark's, the Piazza, the Ducal Palace, and 
the Rialto, I visited again and again, and in the great hall 
of the palace imagined how I should have carried myself as 
one of the powerful Doges ; or I sat in the little chamber of 
the terrible Council of Three, till the shadows deepened, 
dreaming over the scenes that had been there enacted, till 
warned by the custodian that the time for visitors to depart 
had arrived. 

" By frequent visits I became quite well acquainted with 
the principal custodian of the ducal-palace apartments that 
are shown to visitors, an acquaintance which became posi- 
tive friendship on his part after his palm had been crossed 
by a silver franc two or three times, instead of the paper 
lira which was the Italian currency. 

" I used to enjoy the opportunity afforded to study at 

leisure the beautiful pictures of Paul Veronese in the Ilall 

of the Council of Ten, and lounge backward upon a wooden 

bench and gaze upwards at Zelotti's beautiful frieze and the 

18 



274 THE ITEAEFUL THREE. 

rich ceiling, with its exquisite paiiiting-s ; or halted in the 
little ante-room, — now they call it a guard-room, — and, 
hoisting the window curtains, let the afternoon sun pour its 
light in upon the rich coloring of the picture of the Rape of 
Europa, in which the maiden was being seated on the snow- 
white bull by attendants, while flowers and garlands were 
falling from the hands of cupids in the air above, and foli- 
age, trees, and figures were all blended into one beautiful 
combination of the painter's art. 

" In the Hall of the Council of Ten, on a dais at one end 
of the chamber, were the three chairs upon which the Inquisi- 
tors sat when they interrogated their trembling victims ; and 
when the noisy groups of tourists scurrying through the 
room with open mouths and guide-books, as the valet de 
place led them rapidly from point to point, and adapted his 
explanations to suit tlie position he might be occupying or 
to meet the desire of the inquirer, had gone, and the old 
hall Avas cool and quiet, I would sit in the principal inquisi- 
tor's chair, and dream of the dark scenes with which the 
place was haunted, and start from my reverie to hear the 
cry of the gondolier come faintly, mellowed by distance, 
through one of the high windows. It required but little 
eiFort of the imagination to repeople this old hall with the 
ghosts of the past, or imagine the tribunal in the lesser one 
known as the Sala dei Capi, that of ' The Fearful Three,' 
where more private investigations were made. 

" There they sat, three dark figures, with black robes 
reaching from head to foot, scarcely revealing a line of the 
form ; the cowl-covered heads, the black masks through 
which the glitter of dark eyes came like .shafts of death, 
as they fastened their gaze upon you. Their table, black, 
with a white cross emblazoned upon the side of its cover- 
ing towards the prisoner ; and below, in front of them, at 
another table, a monkish-habited clerk took down the prison- 
er's replies, the audible scratching of his pen, as it travelled 
over the p-?per, breaking the silence of the terrible chamber. 



GHOSTS OF THE PAST. 275 

The lamps, suspended overhead by chains, cast an uncertain 
glare upon the scene, seeming to throw the inquisitorial 
Three into a deep shadow, or serving, as their rays sparkled 
upon the steel weapons of a couple of masked halberdiers 
on either side of the prisoner, to remind him, even were he 
not in chains, of the hopelessness of escape. 

" IIow often was the trial a mere farce, the examination 
a mere pretext, and the introduction of the paraphernalia of 
religion, or the semblance of justice, a mere mockery. Placed 
before the terrible Three, the prisoner must have felt that his 
imprisonment or death was but a foregone conclusion, and 
turned with sinking heart to follow his guard over the 
Bridge of Sighs to the gloomy dungeon below the waters 
of the canal, or up into the terrible fastnesses of the Sotto 
Piombi. 

" So thought I, as I stood musing, with folded arms, on 
the spot which I conjured up in my imagination must have 
been in the days of the Republic occupied by the prisoner. 
The afternoon shadows were lengthening, and the triple 
booni of the great bell from the clock-tower sounded like 
the bell tolling for a prisoner's execution. I was tapped 
upon the shoulder, and, with a thrill, turned, almost expect- 
ing to see the masked halbei'dier beckoning me with his 
steel-gloved hand to follow, but only encountered the smil- 
ing old custodian, who, with an expressive rattle of his 
bunch of keys, informed me that he was about to close the 
apartments, and had very nearly forgotten I was there. 

" The old fellow, who was accustomed to permit me to 
wander about these rooms at will, had on various occasions 
pointed out many a curious memento of the past, among 
others tlio cells or rooms in the Solto Piombi, or ' under 
the leads,' which were said to be cold and cheerless in 
winter, and hot as an oven beneath the rays of the Italian 
sun in summer. They were constructed of massive timbers, 
the doors heavily and securely iron-bound, swinging easily 
to the touch into place, and closing with such nicety that 
no aperture in the wall could be discovered. 



276 A TEEEIBLE DUNGEON. 

" In one of these cruel dungeons, now turned into a store- 
room for old lumber, we deciphered, cut into the almost iron- 
like beams, a sentence in Italian invoking a curse on the 
Republic ; and in another place, a spot where the light from 
the little grated window fell, was scratched a rude repre- 
sentation of a wreath inclosing the names — Lucia, Gio- 
vanni, — scratched doubtless with hours of patient labor by 
the prisoner during his captivity. American tourists as a 
rule, especially such as had read Cooper's novel ' The 
Bravo of Venice,' were always desirous of visiting these 
cells, most of which were turned into old lumber-rooms, and 
somewhat difficult of access from their position beneath the 
roof, and the approach through a corridor plentifully deco- 
rated with dust and cobwebs. 

" In order to gratify curiosity, two or three of those in 
the best state of preservation were shown to visitors, espe- 
cially one which was kept in quite good order and condi- 
tion, and which has especial interest in this story. It was 
a square, solid box of beams of wood, which, by the season- 
ing of age, seemed to be as hard as iron. Its thickness M^as 
shown in the door, which was itself a section of the cell 
more than two feet in thickness, yet so nicely poised that 
it swung to its position by a mere touch of the finger, fitting 
snugly into place. There was a sort of broad wooden bench, 
strongly suggestive of a funeral bier, said to have been the 
prisoner's couch by night and seat by day. 

" This cell was lighted by a window eighteen inches 
square, grated by strong iron bars let into the stone work 
outside the inner wooden casing. Throiigh the grating 
close at hand you could catch a view of part of the Cam- 
panile Tower, and far out at the left, in the distance beyond 
the leads, which obstructed the view immediately beneath, 
you could see the dome of San Giorgio, and beyond that the 
blue waves of the Adriatic." 

" You seem to remember the place well," said I, as my 
friend paused in his narrative. 



A DANGEROUS EXPERIMENT. 277 

" Indeed I do ; every part of it is vividly impressed upon 
my memory, and I have good reason to remember it, as you 
will see by my story. 

" I had been in the Piombi but twice : the first time with 
a party of tourists in the usual style, and once with the old 
custodian upon the occasion when the ancient cai'vings I 
have mentioned were pointed out to me. 

" One afternoon, as usual, after a lounge through some 
of the rooms of the old palace, and a new look at the beauti- 
ful pictures of Paul Veronese, Tintoretto, and Titian, and an 
inspection of the curious map of the world, which the patient 
old monk. Father Mauro, wrought out in 1457, showing all 
that was known of the world at that time, I bade the old 
custodian, who chanced to pass me, good afternoon, and was 
about to stroll out again, when the thought came over me 
to visit the cell under the roof, and take a more thorough 
look at it, as I might not again come here. 

" I followed in the direction in which the custodian had 
gone with his keys, but he seemed to have taken some turn 
that carried him out of sight, for I was not able to overtake 
him, and I found myself in the familiar ante-room of the 
Council of Ten. Passing out, I came to the little door of 
modern wooden gratings at the foot of the flight of stairs 
that led to the cells up under the roof. 

" What need of a guide or permission ? I have time and 
can go by myself. But, as I felt for my watch, I was vexed 
to find that in making a change of dress I had left if upon 
the dressing-table of my lodgings. I tried the door. Pshaw I 
it was fastened. A small, cheap-looking lock enough, to be 
sure, but sufficient to keep out curiosity hunters who had 
not paid toll to the custodian. Wait ! We will test its 
efficacy. In a moment a bunch of the half dozen keys, 
which nearly ever}"^ man carries in his pocket, were out. 
I tried one, — two, — three. The fourth, the key of a 
cheap trunk, fitted the lock. It yielded easily, and the 
light latticed door opened before me, and swung to after I 



278 A VENETIAN PEISON. 

had entered, with a sharp snap, — oae of those cheap little 
cupboard spring-locks, made to keep a door closed, rather 
than for protection. 

" I scrambled up the stairs till the light grew dim, and 
finally was in the imperfectly lighted passage at the top. 
A dozen paces or so, and I was at the door of the cell, 
which was open, and I entered it, going up to the little win- 
dow which in the gloom framed a bit of bright sky, like a 
blue patch surrounded by dark crayon. 

" A cool, fresh breeze blew from the water; and the draught 
was delicious as I leaned my chin upon the iron cross-bar, 
and looked out upon the distant water, upon which were 
three or four white-winged craft skimming along before the 
breeze, and the black forms of one or two gondolas slowly 
cutting the waves. 

"I wondered how many prisoners had whiled away the 
dreary hours of captivity by looking out, as I was doing, 
at the liberty that was far beyond their reach, and longing 
to be in one of the swift-sailing craft, that it might bear 
them away to freedom. 

" I turned about, and, with eyes unaccustomed to the 
darkness, could scarce make out anything within ; but there 
was little to make out besides what I have already de- 
scribed, except a dilapidated old chair with a ruined cush- 
ion, that had been probably placed here as useless lumber. 

" There Avas the prisoner's bench and couch. Was it 
long enough for a couch ? I had a fanc}^ to try it, and, tak- 
ing the old chair-cushion for a pillow for head and shoulders, 
stretched myself upon it beneath the window. 

"'If the weather was as comfortable as this,' mused 
I, as I lay watching the shadows of the iron bars in the 
sunlight on the opposite wall, while the gentle draught of air 
blew over me from the little grating to the door, ' the pris- 
oner did not suffer much in that respect.' 

" How long I thus reclined, thinking of the former occu- 
pants of the pi-ison, I know not, but was suddenly con- 



MYSTERIOUS VISITORS. 279 

scious that I was not alone. A tall figure, robed apparently 
in a long cloak that fell from shoulders to heels, completely 
enveloping his person, and with a dark cap, which served 
to conceal his face, stood before me. Seeing that I observed 
him, he made a beckoning gesture, and pointed to the door. 
Actuated by an unaccountable impulse, I obej'ed, and found 
myself passing through a vaulted passage that I certainly 
had never seen before, and, preceded by another figure, 
robed like the first, in black, but carrying a torch in one 
hand, while the other held a huge bunch of keys. 

" What could this mean ? I turned about, but the first 
figure that had beckoned me was scarce six paces behind ; 
and I now noted his features were concealed by a black 
mask, through which the glitter of his eyes sparkled in the 
rays of the torchlight ; and I also observed, as he raised 
his arm with impatient gesture for me to proceed, the flash 
of steel in the girdle at his waist. With a heart thumping 
against my ribs, as I recollected I carried neither of the tra- 
ditional American weapons (bowie-knife or revolver), I 
turned again, and proceeded after the torch-bearer, at whose 
waist I also noted both belt and weapon. 

" On we went, through a low, arched passage of solid 
masonry, till an entrance was reached in which swung, 
half open, a low, Gothic-shaped door, studded with heavy 
iron bolts : through it passed the torch-bearer, myself after 
him ; and after entering a few paces, I turned, and found he 
who followed me had done the same ; and immediately after 
he had entered, the heavy door swung gently together, the 
sharp click of a spring-lock, as it did so driving the blood 
back to my heart with a thrill at the thought I had allowed 
myself to be kidnapped into a secret unknown dungeon by 
strangers, without even the semblance of a struggle for my 
liberty. 

"Turning about, I found myself in a sort of round, or, I 
may say, octagonal chamber. In addition to the door be- 
hind me, by which I had entered, were two others at the 



280 PKISONEE OF THE INQUISITION. 

right and left, but closed and guarded, each by a motionless 
figure standing beside them. Opposite where I stood sat 
two figures behind a table, upon a slightly raised platform, 
dressed like him who had accompanied me to the place : 
between them was a vacant seat, which he immediately 
took ; and I at once perceived, by the deference paid to 
him, that he was of the most distinction of the three, 

" Just below this table was another, at which sat a cowled 
figure, masked, but whose shaved head, as he bent over 
the paper upon which he was writing, revealed him as a monk- 
ish clerk. All this I noted in a gaze swiftly thrown around 
the apartment, without discovering any other opening save 
the three doors. The stone ceiling above was blackened by 
torch-smoke, and the air close and oppressive. 

" But why was I brought here ? Why this hideous 
masquerade, which, despite all I could do, inspired me with 
secret horror ? 

" The silence was broken by a voice from one of the three 
at the table : 

" ' Prisoner, your name.' 

" * Prisoner ! ' said I, starting at the word ; ' by what 
right am I arrested, and for what offence.' 

" 'That you will learn presently,' was the reply ; 'give 
to the court your name.' 
• " I gave it. 

" ' Age, occupation, and profession.'* 

" Half mechanically, I responded. 

" ' State to the court your actual purpose in visiting 
Venice.' 

" ' The court ? By what court am I examined, and who 
are you that demand to know of my affairs ? ' 

" ' The Inquisitorial Court of Venice holds you before it for 
examination. Best be direct, and answer promptly,' re- 
sponded my interrogator. 

" The Inquisitorial Court ! Could it be that I was in the 
power of the terrible Inquisition, and that institution was 
still in existence ? 



A TERRIBLB SITUATION. 281 

" ' Best answer quietly, my son/ came in a low tone from 
the lips of the monkish clerk, as he raised his head, reveal- 
ing a long, white beard that fell from beneath his mask, 
through the eyeholes of which that same devilish glitter that 
characterized the judges seemed to flash. 

" ' I am a citizen of the United States/ said I, ' and de- 
mand instant release ; I appeal to the American consul ; I 
deny the right of any such secret arrest or examination as 
this. Who are you that dare treat a free American citizen 
in this manner ? ' 

" A low laugh, in the silence that followed my furious out- 
burst, came to my ears, as the inquisitor replied ; 

" ' Listen, prisoner 1 You are in the presence of a court 
founded and in operation before 3'our country was known by 
the civilized world to be in existence. You are here to re- 
ply, and we to question. We are prepared for all emergen- 
cies, as this court has been for centuries.' 

" While these words were being uttered, I endeavored to 
collect my scattered senses, and consider the best method 
to proceed. Shut in on every side, there was no chance for 
a dash for liberty. But my soul rebelled at the mocking 
sneer with which my appeals had been met, and the feeling 
of dread gave way to the fierce desire to wreak a just 
vengeance upon the heads of this infamous council. But 
how ? 

" At one side of the monk's table stood a headsman's 
axe and block ; at the other a stake, to which were at- 
tached a large iron ring, chains, and fetters, — emblems, 
doubtless, to strike terror to the hearts of prisoners, or a 
refinement of cruelty, in reminding them of the block or 
stake to which they would be condemned. The torch-rays 
fell upon the gleaming blade of the axe, scarce six paces 
from where I was standing. With that weapon in my hand, 
some of the t^'rants that dared tamper with a freeman's lib- 
erty should feel the weight of his arm. 

" ' Prisoner,' again said the inquisitor, ' will you answer 
the questions of the court ? ' 



282 A DASH FOR LIBERTY. 

" ' No ! I defy you ! ' shouted I, making a spring for- 
ward towards the headsman's blade. But I was instantly 
seized on either side by a grasp so powerful that I failed to 
advance a foot from my position. Two stalwart guards, who 
stood but a pace behind me, had seized each of my arms in 
their iron gripe, and I remained pinioned and immovable as 
if in a vise, 

" Neither judges nor clerk had even started at my sudden 
movement, but remained calm and immovable as though 
nothing had occurred, but the low mocking and sarcastic 
laugh of the inquisitor, that came to my ears as I stood 
panting with exertion, caused every feeling of fear to give 
way to that of rage and indignation. 

" Again the silence of the place, which for some seconds 
seemed interrupted only by my heavy breathing, was broken 
by the calm tones of the inquisitor : 

" ' Prisoner, do you still refuse to answer the questions 
of the court ? ' 

" ' I do,' panted I, ' and deny j^our right to question me, a 
free citizen, before a secret tribunal ; and no power on earth 
shall make me answer to it.' 

" ' Have a care, prisoner, lest the court proceed to use 
means to force you to reply.' 

" 'Force ! Have a care yourself,' retorted I, ' how you 
use force, lest you suffer the consequences.' 

" Again the mocking laugh, as the inquisitor said : 

" ' We have arranged all that. Do you reflect that all 
that may in future be known of you is that a man has dis- 
appeared in Venice, — fallen into the canal, perhaps ; the 
probability, a possibility, if we choose to have the body 
found floating there a few days after it is so suggested ? ' 

" A cold sweat burst forth from every pore. I felt this 
was too true ; no friend or relative was in the city with me ; 
indeed, no inquiry could be made, except by my landlord, 
for weeks, as to my disappearance. I was ignorant where 
I was, except that it was in a stone dungeon, and inaccessible 



A CHAMBER OF HORROKS. 283 

to any from the outside world except such as my kidnappers 
chose to admit. 

" I stood silent for a moment, and my breath came thick 
and fast as I realized my terrible position, 

" ' Prisoner, are you prepared to answer ? ' came again 
the cold, determined tone of the inquisitor. 

"'I will answer nothing,' said I defiantly; 'do your 
worst.' 

" ' Perhaps the prisoner will recall his refusal when he 
finds what means we have at hand to enforce compliance,' 
said the judge, as ho made a signal to the guard at one of 
the side doors. 

" The door slowly swung open, revealing a small arched 
apartment in the solid stone work, lighted by a single lamp 
depending by a chain from the ceiling. Its light revealed to 
me a horrid sight, that sent the blood back to my heart, 
and caused an involuntary shudder. In the middle of the 
apartment, extending nearly from one end to the other, was 
a huge oblong frame, consisting of four wooden beams 
raised a little from the floor, and at each end were cords, 
levers, wheels, and pulleys. 

"I recognized it only too readily. It was the terrible 
rack, upon which prisoners were placed to extort from them 
confessions when the ordinary means failed. 

•' I was still in the iron grip of the two guards. What 
could this mean ? Was I indeed actually in the power of a 
secret tribunal in a Venetian dungeon, and would they dare 
inflict torture upon me, or was this a masquerade of friends 
at my expense. The latter thought gave me new hope, and 
I turned again ; but it was a horrid reality, and I met only 
the stern gaze looking through the eyeholes of the masked 
judges, the arched stone cell, and heard tlie pitiless voice, 
which was one entirely unknown to me, ask : 

" ' Does the prisoner refuse to answer ? ' 

" A fierce effort for release, which seemed scarcely to 
cause an effort on the part of the iron muscles of my cap- 
tors to restrain, was my only reply. 



284 A DESPERATE STRUGGLE. 

" The inquisitor nodded, and I was borne to the terrible 
engine of torture, and bent down backwards by main force 
towards the hard beams. It was a fearful moment, despair 
lent me strength, and as my captors strove to bind the cords 
that were to pinion my limbs to the cruel machinery, sum- 
moning all my energy, and with a mighty and tremendous 
effort that seemed to swell my veins to bursting, I broke 
from them, sprang to my feet, dealing the foremost guard a 
tremendous blow that felled him with a heavy shock to the 
floor, when lights, inquisitors, rack, and prison seemed to 
vanish like a vision, as they were, and I found myself pros- 
trate and panting upon the hard floor — awake. 

" Awake ! But where ? The great drops were upon my 
brow, my heart was knocking like a trip-hammer at my ribs, 
and, although dungeon and inquisitors had disappeared, all 
was dark as Erebus. My hand was bruised and aching from 
the blow struck, and it seemed that the shock of my enemy's 
fall was yet ringing in my ears. I lay still panting and 
listening, but all was silent as the grave. My nostrils were 
filled with ' a cloud of dust, which it appeared that my 
struggle or fall had caused, and which set me to coughing 
and sneezing. Was it a dream, or had the lights been 
merely extinguished to prevent my escaping ? No ; I was 
certainly awake, but the atmosphere was close, the impene- 
trable darkness oppressive, and the silence awful ; but all 
at once it was broken by the melodious boom of the bell from 
the great clock-tower. 

" One ! two ! three ! Either three o'clock or three quar- 
ters past the hour. And then came faintly to my ear the 
cry of a distant gondolier ; and as I turned slightly from the 
position in which I lay, my eyes caught a patch of light on 
the opposite wall. It was the moonlight shining through 
the grated window ; and as my heart began to beat less 
rapidly, and I to collect my scattered senses, the whole 
truth burst upon me. A load was lifted like a mountain 
from my mind. I had fallen asleep on the prisoner's couch 



THE FOE IN THE DARK. 285 

in the cell under the leads, sprung oflf it in my struggle on 
the rack in my dream, and fallen upon the floor, I must 
have slept here till long after dark, but how long ? 

" Let us see. I leaped to my feet and advanced rapidly 
to the grated window, but had taken scarce three steps ere 
I was felled almost prostrate and bleeding by a sudden blow 
upon the forehead. 

" Ah ! It is not all a dream after all, and there is some 
one here. But as I lay prostrate and listened, I heard not 
the faintest rustle of garment or movement or sound betray- 
ing another's presence. For full five minutes, quietly 
where I had fallen, did I strain every sense to catch a move- 
ment, and held my own breath in vain hope to catch the 
respiration of my opponent, but all was silent as the grave. 

" The thought of being here in this gloomy cell at night 
with an unknown adversary was terrible. The nervousness 
of the fearful dream returned tenfold. I felt carefully in 
my pockets for a weapon, knowing all the while I had noth- 
ing but a contemptible little one-bladed penknife ; but this I 
took out and opened, and after a while, rising to my knees, 
made a sweep with it in my right hand as far as I could 
reach, but met no obstacle. 

" I began to recall the story of duels in dark rooms that 
I had read when a lad, and how long two opponents had 
waited with cocked pistols or bared weapons, with strained 
senses, to discover their enemy's whereabouts, till at last a 
faint respiration betrayed it, and the weapon discharged in 
that direction by its flash exposed him who discharged it to 
his enemy. How I longed for a pistol, and how I strained 
the sense of hearing to catch some indication of my adver- 
sary's presence ; but in vain. 

" Grown weary of remaining in a kneeling posture upon 
the hard floor, I resolved to rise to my feet at all hazards, and 
slowly and cautiously rose to an upright position, and had 
nearly attained it when my head encountered some obstacle. 
Putting up my hand, I found it to be the sloping beams of 



286 A PUZZLING POSITION". 

that part of the apartment, and it at once flashed upon me 
that no human hand had inflicted the blow I had received, 
but that it was the result of hastily moving in the darkness 
in that direction, which was really the fact. 

" Again I felt as if a weight was lifted from my mind, 
and with a deep inspiration of relief, and extended hands to 
guard against further accident, I groped my way almost 
fainting to the little window, which I reached, and, resting 
my chin upon its sill, eagerly drank in large draughts of the 
pure air and looked out upon the blue moonlit sky which 
never appeared to me so beautiful, and the distant waves 
that sparkled in the beam more lovely than ever before. The 
reaction was so great, and the feeling so grateful as of hav- 
ing escaped some ternble peril, that I can hardly express 
what a sense of gratitude and happiness I experienced at 
standing there and knowing I was safe, and had only had a 
ternble dream, and was not shut out from the pure air of 
heaven or from beneath the lovely blue sky, — was free and 
not confined in a dreary dungeon. 

" But as my thoughts began to get into their usual chan- 
nel once more, and my nerves steadied again, the question 
of my real position began to present itself to me. Here I was 
at night, up under the leads in a cell in the Ducal Palace. 
The apartments must of course be closed for the night. I 
was indeed a prisoner till morning, but how long was it till 
morning ? I remembered, when felled to the floor by the 
blow from the beam, to have heard the bell from the clock- 
tower strike. Was it one o'clock, or would the next peal be 
the quarter past some other hour ? 

" I must wait patiently and endeavor to ascertain. It 
came at last, one solitary boom, the same as first heard, and 
again I was tortured with doubt, until the next stroke came 
— two. It was half past something, certainly, and so I 
waited, and never did moments move on more leaden wings, 
till at last the three-quarters were pealed out, and then the 
welcome stroke which was to tell me the hour would come 
in fifteen minutes more. 



LEADEN MOMENTS. 287 

" I never moved from the window. T felt I could not 
look enough upon the blue waves now dancing in the beams 
of the descending moon. I think that I uttered a prayer 
of thanks that the vision of the Inquisition had not been a 
reality, but it seemed as if the hour would never arrive. 
I even began to imagine it might have struck and I not 
heard it, and then I laughed to myself at the idea, and began 
counting off seconds and checking every sixty with one of 
my fingers, and had got to the eighth when the bronze ham- 
mers began their work on the sonorous metal, and I counted 
aloud. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, 
ten, eleven, twelve ! 

" Tweh'e o'clock! Midnight! And I must wait from 
midnight till at least seven or eight o'clock in the morning 
before the custodian Avould come. However, I felt quite 
cheerful about what I considered this brief imprisonment, 
and had busied myself stanching the blood from the cut on 
my forehead, and thinking of the surprise I should occasion 
the custodian in the morning, and the story I should have 
to tell of my vivid dream of Venetian tjn-anny, when it 
occurred to me that I might as well occupy the time by 
passing out of this close and uncomfortable cell, and grop- 
ing my way to the more spacious apartments below stairs. 
Accordingly, moving slowly with outstretched arms through 
the dense gloom, I sought the door. It was but a short dis- 
tance from one side of the cell to the other, and, groping 
forward through the darkness, my outstretched hands soon 
encountered tlie opposite wall, but I felt vainly for the 
opening. 

" I could not be mistaken. If I recollected correctly, it 
was directly opposite the little grated window up to which 
I had walked on first entering ; and, turning about, I ob- 
served the light of the now sinking moon shining through 
that, directly opposite where I stood. Again I sought the 
open door, moving my hands slowly along the smooth old 
oaken beams till I reached the angle forming the corner. I 



288 TRAPPED IN A PRISON CELL. 

had missed the opening' in some unaccountable manner, 
probably passed to the left of it. 

" Starting from my new position, I carefully felt my "way 
back to where I supposed the door must be, but still con- 
tinued to meet an unbroken surface, till my further progress 
was stopped by the angle of the wall at the extreme right. 
What was the meaning of this ? There was a door upon that 
side certainly, or had I got turned about in my sleep, as 
people do sometimes when waking from sound repose at 
midnight, and are compelled to get up, or to take hold of the 
footboard of the bed, to convince themselves that their posi- 
tion has not been reversed since retiring. 

" Again I carefully felt my way the whole length of the 
partition. To my touch it was smooth and unbroken as a 
single block. Reaching the angle, I followed the wall along, 
came to the opposite side, and reached the window, from 
which I saw the moon was now nearly out of sight, render- 
ing the darkness of my prison still more pitchy. I con- 
tinued my course, passed the window, feeling every inch of 
the way with hand, and trying with pressure of foot and 
knee as I progressed ; but the space appeared unbroken by 
opening, aperture, or hinge, and at last, having completed 
the entire circuit of the cell, I again stood grasping the bars 
of the little grated window with a beating heart. 

" It was plain I was shut in, but for what purpose and 
by whom ? And again my nervous imagination suggested 
that this might be another portion of a dream. So I 
whistled, sang a stave of a song, shouted, and otherwise 
thoroughly convinced myself that I was completely awake, 
and then began to rack my brain as to how it was I became 
shut in, and why it was I was unable to find the door of my 
prison. 

" Just then the great bell struck. 

" One ! 

" Only one o'clock. But one hour had passed, and I had 
at least three more to wait until daylight. 



A TEREIBLE NIGHT. 289 

" I cannot recall all the thoughts that ran through my 
mind during that terrible night, but it seemed as though 
every story of imprisonment from Baron Trenck to Jack 
Sheppard, and every romance, novel, and history, in which 1 
had ever read of a prison-cell, came back vividly to my 
recollection, and the successive booms of the great bell on 
the clock-tower as they told off the qxiarters of the hour, — 
I imagined how the}'' must have sounded all too quickly to 
the wretch who had but a single night to live, and heard it 
thus checked off by the bronze giants with all too ready 
hammers, though to me they were laggards in their work. 

"The moon had now gone down, and all was darkness, 
but this did not prevent me from' again making a careful 
circuit of the apartment, and even for a third time, so 
confident was I of having mistaken the opening ; but now 
each effort was attended with the same result, and after the 
circuit I reached the little grated window whence I had 
started. 

" Anxious and fatigued, I again stretched myself upon 
the wooden bench upon which still remained the old chair- 
cushion that had served me as a pillow, and turned my face 
towards the window with a -feeling of despair to wait pa- 
tiently for the morning's light to aid in effecting deliverance. 
As I did so, I saw, in the dark blue of the sky without, a 
single sparkling star that seemed to be twinkling in between 
the iron bars like an emblem of hope ; and as I lay gazing 
at it, and thinking what a companion one of God's beautiful 
lights like this must have been to the solitary prisoner who 
enjoyed the privilege of this outlook, so rare in the ducal 
prisons, tired nature succumbed, and I was again in the land 
of dreams. 

" This time I was spared so fearful a nightmare as before, 
and my worst experience was in imagining that I was lying 
at the foot of a deep, dark shaft of a mine, looking up at 
the opening that twinkled far above me like a single star 
upon a black sky. Again, I was a wretch bound and 
19 



290 DAYLIGHT AT LAST. 

prostrate upon the hard boards of a rough cart, being 
dragged to execution, the rough inequalities of tlie road, as 
we jostled over it, bruising every aching joint, and the great 
bell tolling the knell of death as we neared the scaffold, 
when I awoke again with a start. 

" My limbs indeed ached with the hardness of my wooden 
couch, and the final strokes of the bell of the clock-tower 
outside accounted for another portion of the dream ; but 
welcome daylight had arrived and already partially illumi- 
nated the gloom of mj^ prison. Rising to my feet, I straight- 
ened up my aching limbs, and once more went to the little 
grated window, my source of light and air, and looked out. 
It was broad daylight now, sure enough ; the morning sun- 
beams sparkled on the distant waves ; I could hear far off 
shouts of gondoliers, and see the distant water-craft again, 
and ere long heard the stroke of the hour, — seven. 

" Now for a thorough look for the door of this terrible 
dungeon, to find it and go forth. By the dim lights to 
which my eyes had become accustomed, I discovered the 
main features of the cell, with which I was already tolei'ably 
familiar : a four-sided room of heavy oaken beams, as before 
described, the roof of the side in which the grated window 
was set being sloping, and not sufficiently high for me to 
occupy an upright position. In the middle of the apart- 
ment was the prisoner's wooden bench, or couch, upon 
which I had passed my few hours of troubled slumber, look- 
ing more bier-like than ever. 

" But where was the door ? 

" I walked directly to the spot where I felt confident it 
ought to be, but, closely as I examined, I could discover only 
what seemed to be an unbroken wall to the apartment. 

" It was no nightmare now, but a fearful reality ; a riddle, 
the solution of which I must bring my keenest senses to bear 
upon, and I felt it. My sight had now become so accustomed 
to the imperfect light that I could examine my prison with 
a tolerable degree of distinctness, and indeed the morning 



VAIN EFFORTS FOR FREEDOM. 291 

was SO far advanced that the rays of daylight coming' 
thi()iig-li the barred window made portions of the cell easily 
discernible. 

" It was perfectly evident to me that the door must have 
been shut during my first slumber the night previous, but 
how, by whom, or fur what purpose, I could not imagine. 
On calm I'eflection I came to the conclusion that the cus- 
todian or some friend, having discovered me sleeping, had 
thought it would be a pleasant practical joke to thus incar- 
cerate me for the night, and that they would promptly lib- 
erate me in the morning. 

" But it was now morning, and the clock-tower bell had 
struck eight as I sat on the bench moodily turning over 
these thoughts and reflections. 

"The Ducal Palace was open for visitors, I remembered, 
from nine to four ; the apartments generally all cleared at 
five p. M., which was about the time I had ascended, led 
by my prying curiosity to this accursed prison. It could 
now be but an hour before the custodian and his officials 
were on duty. At or before that time he or whoever had 
perpetrated this wretched joke, if joke it was, would come 
and release me. 

" Slowly the moments rolled along, but not the sound of 
any approach broke the silence till at length, after the last 
stroke of nine had sounded, I could endure waiting no 
longer. I went to the wall where the door ought to have 
been, examined it closely, held my face down to discover 
any current of air, and tried with finger-nails to detect the 
crack. There were cracks enough, horizontal and longitudi- 
nal, for that matter, and through one of the latter I felt, or 
fancied I felt, to my great joy, a current of air ; the door 
must be here, and I threw myself with all my force against 
the spot and each side and about it, but without any more 
perceptible effect than against a solid wall of masonry. The 
ancient Venetian builder had succeeded all too well with his 
devilish contrivance of security against outbreak, and, pant- 



292 STARVATION IN" PROSPECT. 

ing- with exertion, and with perspiration streaming from every 
pore, notwithstanding coat and vest had been thrown off for 
the effort, I staggered back again to the oaken bench as the 
clock struck ten. 

" What effort should I make next ? I felt faint and sick, 
and now for the first time realized the want of nourishment, 
and that, since a light lunch nearly twenty-four hours pre- 
vious, nothing had passed my lips. From the hour of wak- 
ing, throat and lips were parched with thirst, both from the 
excitement and the exertion I had made, and now the longing 
for water was intolerable. Tongue, lips, and throat seemed 
dry unto bursting, and my heart beat quicker at the thought 
of dying of thirst and hunger in this terrible place, as I 
cursed the thoughtlessness that led me to wander up here 
alone and unnoticed. 

" I had not tried shouting for help, and why should I not ? 
But it seemed as if my parched tongue refused its office, and 
my efforts only resulted in a hoarse sort of shriek for help, 
which certainly could not be heard through the thick walls 
of my prison ; and I soon found this effort becoming little 
more than a hoarse whisper, and so tottered to the window 
once again to inhale the reviving air and look forth, while 
yet I might, upon the blue sky, the beautiful distant waves, 
and listen to what faint sounds of free life without might 
float up to me from the busy city far below. 

" The hammers of the bronze giants were again busy, and 
the great bell of the clock-tower began to toll off the hour 
of noon. Twelve o'clock, and yet no signs of my liberation. 

" There was a rush as of many wings ; a flock of pigeons 
passed in sight of my prison-window — the pigeons of St. 
Mark, that always come into the square at the stroke of two 
to be fed with their governmental ration of grain. They 
were gathering in anticipation of the approaching hour of 
their daily feast, A dozen alighted upon the leads below, 
not twenty feet from my window. Could I not in some way 
make these to be carrier-pigeons, giving intelligence of my 



EXHAUSTION AND DESPAIR. 293 

fate. But I had no means of entrapping or enticing tliem 
any nearer to me. 

"A thorough search of my pocket revealed nothing but 
a penknife, a bunch of keys, my purse, a few letters, and 
my note-book. 

" My note-book ! I would turn this to account, at least 
while I had the strength to do so. I wrote severally in Eng- 
lish, French, and as well as I was able in Italian, which I 
tlien knew but imperfectly, these words : 

" ' Help ! A visitor who has been accidentally shut in a 
cell in Sotlo Piombi in the Ducal Palace, and is dying, writes 
these lines. In God's name, help at once ! ' 

"These I folded and indorsed, 'Look Within,' and then 
threw them out through the grated bai's of my prison, hoping* 
they would flutter into the square below aiid be there found. 
They dropped upon the leads, and one fluttered in between 
two little projections and was wedged firmly, and the others 
did not come in sight from under the great overhanging sill 
that projected beneath my window. So, with trembling 
hands, I wrote and rewrote half a dozen more, folding them 
and throwing them out as far as I possibly could, and was 
tortured to see some of these little white missives lying 
upon the leads in plain sight, with not a breath of air to 
waft them to those who might set me free. 

" Again the great clock struck. Two ! 

" Great heavens ! will relief never come ? I sought the 
bench in the middle of the room again. Could I wrench up 
a portion of this to pry my way out in some unthought of 
manner? But no ; it was as firmly rooted as St. Theodore's 
pillar, and I sank down panting and exhausted, dropped my 
now fevered brow into the palms of my hands, and tears of 
nervous grief and excitement trickled through my fingers. 
I was weak, faint, and exhausted from want of nourishment, 
and from the air, which was hot, close, and oppressive ; 
besides which, the exertions I had made to free myself from 
the place, the excitement attending upon the terrible dream. 



294 SUCCOK AT LAST. 

all acting- upon a somewhat nervous temperament, were 
beginning to have their effect. 

" I sat, I icnow not how long, in a half dreaming state of 
stupor. The pictures of my youth all ran before me like a 
vivid panorama, — school, school-fellows, play-ground, beau- 
tiful green fields, woods, delicious brooks whose waters never 
looked before so sweet and cool, orchards with broad boughs 
laden with tempting fruit. Then again the scene changed, and 
the tables of a grand feast were before me, in an empty 
banquet-hall ; the smoking viands made the mouth to water 
with delightful anticipations, and red wine sparkled in crys- 
tal glasses. I started forward, an unbidden guest, to the 
board, but was held back by an invisible power, while a 
voice said : 

" ' What would" you ? There are no guests here ? ' 

" ' There is no one here.' I seemed to hear the words 
with startling distinctness. 

" ' No one here ! ' ' There is ! Good God ! Here is a 
man shut up in this fearful place ! ' 

" There was no mistaking this sound ; I was dreaming or 
insane. Raising my head from my hands, and leaping to 
my feet, my eyes were almost dazzled by the light that 
poured in from the open door of the cell, in which stood a 
party of visitors, two ladies and two gentlemen, and beside 
them the old custodian. 

" A start back, a faint shriek from one of the ladies, and 
an exclamation of surprise from one of the men, evinced 
their surprise at my unlooked for apparition. 

" ' For God's sake, save me — you speak English — shut 
up here — accident — save me ! ' cried I in a hoarse whisper, 
and fell forward in a dead faint at their very feet. 

" When I recovered I was reclining upon a great settee 
or sofa in the Chamber of the Council of Ten ; a gentle 
sort of perfumed breeze seemed to be playing upon my 
brow, which I discovered came from the fan of one of my 
liberators ; the great window above me was opened, and an 



THE LUXURY OF LIBERTY. 295 

abundance of glorious sunlight poured in with the air 
through the casement. The old custodian came breaking 
tluough the group with a bottle of wine that he had run to 
one of the restaurants in the square for, and never was nec- 
tar more delicious than the first glass of that vin ordinaire. 

" In a quarter of an hour I was suflSciently recovered to 
tell a portion of my story, but I shook as with an ague fit 
from nervous agitation ; and as Dr. Riclietti, who had been 
hastily summoned, arrived, placed his cool hand upon my 
brew, and felt the I'apid leaping of my pulse, he quietly 
commanded a postponement of further particulars, and I 
was half carried, half led across the Piazzetta to his waiting 
gondola, which was swiftly rowed to my hotel. 

" Ah ! the luxury of the cool couch, the pleasant subdued 
light through the Venetian awnings, and the happy sense of 
liberty that I experienced. But it was many months ere I 
could get that terrible night out of my dreams, and, though 
more than six years have elapsed, yet now and then it occa- 
sionally comes before me in dreamland. And it is not sur- 
prising that the boom of the gi'eat bell of the clock-tower 
should always be associated in my mind with that fearful 
twenty-four hours' imprisonment." 

My friend drew a long breath, and with an involun- 
tar}^ shudder, as the bronze bellman beat out the hour of 
twelve, he wiped the drops of perspiration from his brow, 
and, as our gondolier halted at the steps of my hotel, bade 
good night with the promise of a sequel and explanation of 
the strange adventure, over our cofl'ee and cigarettes, on 
the morrow, when we should sit in the Piazza, in front of 
Florian's. 

The granita di limone wsis cool and refreshing as we sat 
in our chairs w^ell out into the square in front of the restau- 
rant the next evening, and the two strolling musicians with 
mandolin and guitar had sung a pretty Italian melody and 
been well rewarded with copper coins, and we were both 
looking up at the deep, glorious blue of the Italian moonlit 



296 "such stuff as dreams are made of." 

sky, as the old bell-tower sentinels beat out the hour of 
nine, and recalled to mind the story of the preceding night, 
and I reminded the narrator of his promised explanation. 

" It is simple enough," said he. " If you will believe it, 
that terrible night's experience had such an effect upon my 
nervous organization that for nearly a week I feared to 
sleep, it so perpetually recurred in my dreams, and for the 
first three nights the doctor furnished me with a watcher, 
and I was kept quiet until the nervous excitement was 
allayed, and in little more than a week's time sat here as 
we are now, telling the leading particulars of my incarcera- 
tion to Dr. Richetti one afternoon, and accounting for 
various incidents in the affair. 

" My previous meditations below stairs upon old Venetian 
tyranny, the snap to of the little spring-latched wicket door, 
the doctor remarked, had put the current of thought in 
proper direction for the dream of dungeon, inquisitors, and 
rack. In starting from the dream I had struck my hand 
against the half-opened but easily swinging door of the cell, 
and. thereby closed it. This was the blow at the guard in 
the dream, and the door opened inwardly. There chanced 
to be no visitors who cared to see the place until late, hence 
the delay in my liberation ; and, had not this group of 
Americans desired to make the exploration, I might have 
remained there another night, or until the place had chanced 
to be visited. 

" As the doctor and myself were then chatting, a young 
Italian gentleman came towards where we were sitting, and, 
bowing to the doctor, who was an acquaintance, begged 
pardon in the Italian tongue for the interruption, and said 
that he wished the physician, as he understood English, to 
translate for him a little billet-doux in that language that 
had fluttered to his feet, he knew not from where, as he 
came from his gondola through the Piazetta. He handed 
what appeared to be a small bit of gilt-edged paper to the 
doctor. 



THE LADY IN THE CASE. 297 

" The latter unfolded it, read it, laughed, and looked 
towards myself as his interrogator stood, cigarette in hand, 
awaiting an answer with some anxiety. 

" 'Listen/ said the doctor; 'this is the translation,' and 
he read in Italian one of the messages I had pencilled a week 
before, and thrown out of the dungeon-window. 'But there 
is no need of any help now,' said he to his astonished friend; 
' permit me to present you to the prisoner who has been 
rescued.' This was the third of ray aerial billets-doux which 
had been picked up since my release ; one in French, had 
gone to the police, who, before its finding, having heard of 
my adventure, had directed the custodian to put a stronger 
lock on the lower staircase lattice-door, and never to leave 
the building without visiting the cells ; and the other in bad 
Italian was discussed by a group at one of the cafe, tables 
as a, clever attempt of some Englishman to play a pi'actical 
joke." 

" But, the lady in the group, she that fanned you after 
rescue, by all the rules of romance you should have been 
married to her," said I. 

" Bah ! " said my companion ; " never saw her but once 
after, and then only by a singular circumstance recognized 
her. The carriage of a party of which I was one took us to 
visit the Capuchin church vaults in Vienna, and halted at 
the church entrance. As we descended, another party that 
had but just been below, guided by the old friar with his 
caudle, came out. 

" ' Ugli I a gloomy place : seems like being released from 
a prison to get into the sunlight again,' said one of the 
sight-seers, as they were taking their places in their car- 
riage. 

" 'Yes, indeed,' said a lady's voice; 'but did you ever 
hear how Kate and I released a gentleman from a dungeon 
in the Ducal Palace at Venice ? ' 

" ' No, indeed ; how was it ? ' 

" I turned sharply round at this, but the door of the 



298 THE ARSENAL AT VENICE. 

carriage clapped to at that moment. I merely caught 
the words, ' Why, you see — ,' and I only saw a carriage 
load of ladies and gentlemen roll away with the blue ribbons 
of the speaker's Paris hat fluttering like farewell streamers 
in the breeze." 



CHAPTER XIV. 

I COULD not leave Venice without visiting the Arsenal, 
a place all-important in her history of maritime greatness, 
and which was for a long time the most celebrated and 
extensive navy-yard in the world. It is formed by a number 
of small islands, which are connected together by bridges, 
and surrounded by a wall of two miles in circumference. 

In the somewhat brief visit we made to this noted place, 
one could not help noticing what evidences this great work 
still displayed of the former naval strength and commercial 
power of the great maritime republic. The spot seems to 
have been admirably chosen for the purposes designed, and 
of course the natural advantages must have been much 
improved since its foundation in 1320. The great basins, 
dry and wet docks for vessels, and vast warehouses, work- 
shops, massive piers, besides constructions for ancient work 
now useless, astonish the visitor. The rope-walk here, with 
one exception, that of Toulon in France, is said to be the 
largest in Europe, and is 1038 feet in length, the building 
being upheld by ninety-two pillars of Doric architecture. 

We were rowed down to the landing as near as prac- 
ticable to this grand remnant of Venetian power, and, after 
landing, approached the principal entrance, pausing to look 
at the battlemented walls, the great square castle-like clock- 
tower on one side, the marble lions in front, and the marble 
statues of Neptune, Mars, and four or five other figures 



REMNANT OP A GREAT POWER. 299 

surmounting' the ornamental pillars before the great arch- 
way above, upon which is the figure of the inevitable winged 
lion, with the golden book between his paws, and upon the 
summit of the pillars before and behind him two larg-e balls, 
or globes. This gateway, as an inscription on one of the 
pillars tells us, was made in 1460. Before going in we 
pause to look at the stone lions that guard the entrance, 
not from any beaut}-^ they possess, for they are clumsy 
effigies, but because they were brought from the Pelopon- 
nesus in 1685, and because one, which has inscriptions cut 
upon it that are untranslatable, is said to be a memorial of 
the battle of Marathon. 

We pass in at the entrance, present our permit, and, after 
inscribing our names upon the book of registration, are 
given in charge of one of the guards, Avho, courteous, polite, 
and patient, allows us to stroll pretty much at will and 
spend as much time in examination and sight-seeing as we 
desire ; a proceeding somewhat unusual on the part of such 
officials, but in this case, I presume, a matter of semblance 
of military authority to see that visitors conduct themselves 
properly, pry into no forbidden places, and do not steal or 
carry off any relics. 

It is said the French destroyed many important portions 
of the works of the Venetian Arsenal, and carried away 
many of its treasures. and antiquities, but enough remains, 
even at this late day, to indicate what an enormous work 
must have been carried on here at the height of Venetian 
commercial supremacy, when there were employed nearly 
sixteen thousand laborers, besides women, to cut and sew 
sails. In the earlier period here was where the great 
Venetian war galleys were built and repaired, some of them 
over two hundred feet in length, and capable of accom- 
modating a thousand men. These vessels, it will be remem- 
bered, were propelled by rowers, sailors, and galley slaves, 
some by double banks of oars ; and a naval engagement in 
the days of those craft was a very different affair from that 



800 MARITIME IMPORTANCE OF VENICE. 

of modern times ; for then they ranged their ships along- 
side the enemy, and the battle became a hand-to-hand fight, 
requiring more exercise of brute courage than seamanship. 
The commanders selected were also those noted as bold and 
successful soldiers : indeed, a sole dependence on maritime 
tactics would have been disastrous in the extreme. 

I find, by consulting authorities, that at one period Venice 
had the carrying trade between Europe and the East, and in 
the thirteenth century she had more than three thousand 
vessels sailing under her flag. In the palmy days of the re- 
public, during time of peace, there were thirty of the national 
vessels chartered by private individuals, each of which 
transported cargoes of the value of sixty thousand pounds 
sterling. It was in this arsenal, or navy-yard, that the 
practice of building or repairing vessels under cover was 
first introduced ; and there still remain nearly a hundred of 
these dry docks, although the two or three that I visited, 
unlike the ship-houses in the American navy-yards, con- 
tained no rotting, unfinished hulls of past administrations. 
It appears, however, when the French took possession, they 
found vessels unfinished that had been on the stocks seven- 
ty-five years, construction having stopped owing to lack of 
material and the decadence of the state. Some of the great- 
ship-houses appear to have been turned into warehouses, 
and others are doubtless pulled down. There may still 
remain ancient fragments in some ; but if so, I did not push 
my investigations far enough to find them, for the sun was 
hot, and, after ascertaining that besides these dry, there were 
eight wet docks, I made for the more interesting part of the 
place, which is the Armory. 

This contains a large collection of ancient and curious 
weapons of war and military trophies. Among these fs the 
suit of armor of Henry IV. of France, given by him to 
the republic in 1603. All sorts of helmets, cuirasses, swords, 
magnificent Toledo blades, and others of marvellous work- 
manship, with inlaid Damascene blades and hilts ; carved 



ANCIENT AKMOR AND WONDROUS WEAPONS. 301 

cimeters captured from the Turks, and great boardiug-pikes 
that might be used in thrusting at the enemy as the galley's 
ranged alongside. Specimens of the steel crossbow and 
bolts, and even the ordinary bow and skin quivers, with 
arrows still in them, hung upon the walls with maces, 
curious battle-axes, and wondrous armor. 

In the centre of the hall was a mounted figure ; man and 
horse sheathed in mail of elegant workmanship of Milanese 
steel, and the armor of Doge Ziani, who flourished in 1176. 
Among the trophies displayed on the walls, one which is 
especially noteworthy is the great flag of the Turkish ad- 
miral, taken at the celebrated battle of Lepanto, gained by 
the Venetian and Spanish fleets over the Turks, October 1, 
1571, and in which fight Cervantes, author of " Don Quixote," 
was wounded. Displayed near it is the armor of Sebastian 
Veniez, captain-general at Lepanto, also that of Augustus 
Barberigo, and a Tunisian banner and a Turkish flag taken 
at Friuli in 1472. 

Ilere again we are reminded that the American revolving 
pistol is no modern invention, for among the collection of 
fire-arms is a revolving pistol said to have been invented in 
the fifteenth century. Talk about revolvers and metrail- 
leuses ! Why, here we saw a five-barrelled cannon of the 
sixteenth century, and another of the samatime, which, as 
far as exterior examination went, was a well-made and 
efiective weapon, that was a sixteen-barreller. The collec- 
tion of cannon in this armory is said to have been very fine, 
but, like many other portions of the collection, it was taken 
away or nearly broken up by the French when they came 
into possession under Napoleon, as above noted. 

There are still a few specimens of elegant and curious 
antique workmanship. One is a gun, made apparently of 
steel, and elegantly ornamented with inwrought gold leaves, 
vines, and other ornaments. The muzzle is a griffin's head, 
from the open mouth of which poured forth the deadly fire 
of destruction upon the foe. Near the vent arranged for 



302 THB BUCENTAXTR. 

purposes of a sight was a miniature figure of a cavalier, 
with drawn sword, astride the back of a dragon. Other 
specimens of fire-arms, rude in invention and beautiful in 
workmanship, weapons such as swords, pistols, and battle- 
axes, that had belonged to Italian captains who had won 
honor in the service of the republic, were displayed on the 
walls or in cases ; and the theatrical-looking seat used by 
the Doge when visiting the Arsenal was among the curios- 
ities displayed. 

Another interesting department is the model room, which 
contains models of all kinds of water-craft from the ancient 
galley down to the modern frigate. Here are displayed 
fragments of old galleys that have served in action, their 
beaks or prows ; fragments of galleys captured from the 
Turks ; a fragment of the last Bucentaur, or state galley, in 
which the Doge was wont to go in great pomp and state 
for the cei'emony of marrying the Adriatic. The last Vene- 
tian Bucentaur perished in 1'79'r. It was a gorgeous state 
barge, and must have almost rivalled Cleopatra's in magni- 
ficence, for the gilding alone cost more than forty thousand 
dollars. The model of it preserved in this museum shows 
it to have been a gorgeous affair, elegantly carved, decorated, 
and gilded in every possible part visible to the eye. Two 
hundred rowers propelled it, and upon its different lofty 
decks were grand saloons, place for a full band of musicians, 
servants, sailors, soldiers, and noblemen. This grand vessel 
was not rowed by ordinary sailors or galley slaves, but by 
a picked body of men who were' proud of the service, and 
who enjoyed peculiar privileges from the state for this and 
other guard and maritime duty performed by them at the 
Arsenal, and in behalf of various state dignitaries. The 
plans, sectional drawings and curious models of antique 
naval architecture that are displayed here, must be a most 
interesting study to those who are familiar in the least with 
ship-building. The relics of old battles and mementos of 
the warlike prowess of the Venetians in many cases were 



VERONA. 303 

unfamiliar to myself, and the guide-books give only a meagre 
explanation, or none at all, of who many great captains, 
M'hose names ended with an i, were, and so we pass numbers 
of these ti'ophies with but a glance. 

But the glories of Venice are a story of the past, and 
tliis great arsenal, with its docks and piers, like the Colos- 
seum in Rome, serves to show, by its very immensity, as a 
skeleton of other days, what must have been the power that 
called it into being and once clothed it with life and activity. 

Verona I the very aroma of Shakspcare's plays seemed 
to be in the atmosphere as we rolled in a rattling old vehicle 
through its streets, and remembered Valentine and Proteus, 
the two gentlemen of Verona, and looked with interest at a 
ragged, unkempt cur, wondering if he was a descendant of 
Launce's dog, as our carriage whirled past the broad en- 
trance to a great church into which a straggling crowd 
of worshippers were going to some vesper service, for the 
air was as filled with the clangor of bells as an American 
city on the morning of the celebration of Independence day. 
Close by the church was a gateway : through it we drove, 
and were in the courtyard and front of the hospitable door 
of the Hotel of Two Towers. 

The first thing a tired tourist does on obtaining a good 
room and performing his ablutions after a long railroad ride, 
is to test the cuisine of the hotel. At some Italian hotels, 
the perfume, as well as the use of garlic is intolerable, and 
it is necessary to forbid any flavoring with it, but in a house 
like this we were fortunate. The host set a table that was 
clean and well serv'ed, and his cooking was more English 
than Italian, for we had chops, yes, genuine chops, well 
cooked, eggs that were fresh, soup that was rich and not 
greasy, and bread that was sweet ; the latter something to 
be thankful for by those who have endui'ed the Florentine 
abomination. The refreshing effect of the viands of the 
Hotel of Two Towers, and the spacious room to which wo 



304 STREET SCENES. 

were assigned, with its windows commanding' a view of 
nearly half a mile of street directl}^ in front, and the broad 
entrance to the great church at one side, coupled with the 
civility of the chief clerk, who spoke English, may have 
prejudiced me in favor of the house, for certainly it was 
one of comfort after the long railroad ride from Venice. 

The hotel was built with those open piazzas or galleries, 
inclosing its court-yard, where carriages and post-stages 
drove in, and was probably the starting-point of the great 
diligences before the days of railroad commiinication. The 
weather was warm, and open windows the rule after the sun 
had gone down ; and, as we sat at ours, and looked down 
fi'om our three-storied height into the square below, we 
observed real activity begin. The street became more 
and more thronged with pedestrians ; gossipy groups met 
as by common consent together in knots hei-e and there 
before the great church. The proprietor of a wine-shop 
brought out half a dozen tables, and twice that number of 
chairs, and placed them on the pavement in front of his 
door ; and ere long two white-jacketed waiters were flitting 
hither and thither among the groups that surrounded them, 
and the clink of glasses and glow-worm-like sparkle of 
lighted cigar-tips below told that the real business of the 
day was flourishing. There was a hum and chatter of voices 
of men and women ; children raced and played in the cool 
evening air about the church-door ; and the whole scene 
and its bustle and clatter contrasted strangely with the 
quiet that we had so lately left. There, when the sun went 
down, the liquid highway of the Grand Canal, which our 
apartments overlooked, gave forth no sound of pattering 
feet or noisy voices, except now and then as a dark gondola 
glided by with a gay party, whose tones were soon lost in 
the distance. 

" I wonder what time these people retire to bed," thought 
I, as I rose from my couch after two hours' ineffectual effort 
to woo the drowsy god, owing to the clatter below, and, 



THE ROISTERERS OF VERONA. 305 

looking at my watch, found it to be past midnight. I 
looked out. The crowd had diminished, but there were 
still dark knots in the square. Only two or three of the 
wine-shop man's tables were now occupied, but the glasses 
had evidently clinked to some purpose, for the argument 
going on was fierce and vehement, with all that extrava- 
gant gesture that Frenchman and Italian throw into a dis- 
cussion; and the rattle of tongues promised to abbreviate 
for me that necessary refreshment after a tiresome journey, 
a good night's sleep, so much that I began to question the 
judgment which located the hotel, wine-shop, and square in 
such proximity. The discussion at the wine-shop half an 
hour later culminated in a squabble, and the proprietor or 
police had to preserve the peace ; the tables were taken in, 
and now all was quiet except the patter of feet of numerous 
pedestrians passing and repassing. It really seems as if 
the people in these warm climates are in the streets the 
most part of the night during the summer season (it was 
now June), and took their sleep during the day. 

It was now two a. m., and young Verona was beginning 
to go home for the night. Either the young bloods of Flor- 
ence and Verona break forth into music when Bacchus pleni, 
or when returning from opera or soiree musicale at these (to 
us) unseasonable hours, for they are all singing, loudly 
singing. These gay bloods sing not as a noisy fellow even, 
in America, but distance anything I ever heard in strength 
of lung and power of expression. This may be from the fact 
that some of them have trained musical instruction. 

Fancy a young fellow with a powerful tenor voice passing 
through the quiet street singing at his highest register as if 
striving to drown an orchestra, and continuing on, his shouts 
reaching you nearly half a mile away after he has passed, 
only to be succeeded by three more, who arm in arm pass, 
roaring an operatic chorus as if their lungs and throats were 
of brass. Then come a couple more, one with a guitar, either 
going to or returning from a serenade, and improving the 
20 



306 THE MONTAGUES AND CAPULETS. 

walk by a song-, fortissimo. Indeed, it seemed to me these 
g'entlemen of Verona thought that street sing-ing, like street 
music, should be of the loudest possible description, as I 
tossed uneasily on my couch till tired nature at last suc- 
cumbed, and I slumbered. 

I was aroused by a peal and clangor of bells that brought 
me into a sufficient sense of wide-awakativeness that, as an 
American, I involuntarily listened for the firing of cannon 
and explosion of fire-crackers, which " usher in " Indepen- 
dence day ; and then, as none came, I recollected I was in 
this land of bell-ringing, as the clangor went on for ten 
minutes or more, and found on consultation of my watch 
that they were ringing for five-o'clock mass. I had enjoyed 
two hours' slumber only. At length the din ceased, and, 
dozing off again, I was once more roused, half past five ; 
and so on with this infernal din, until seven o'clock. The 
incessant clangor of bells is one of the nuisances in Italian 
cities, especially at early morning, if one is easily roused 
and desires rest, but, like some other annoyances, soon come 
to be disregarded as one gets thoroughly seasoned as a 
tourist. 

The Montagues and the Capulets ! We thought of them 
as we halted and looked about in a quaint, almost deserted 
old street that in the quiet sunshine seemed like one of those 
scenes set on the theatrical stage, where the combat of Mer- 
cutio, Tybalt, and Romeo took place. 

" Would Monsieur like to see Juliet's house ? " 

" Certainly ! Drive us to Juliet's house, to Juliet's bal- 
cony." 

We remembered that " the orchard walls were high and 
hard to climb," as the fair Juliet had told her lover, and 
called to mind the engravings of Italian terraced gardens 
with plashing fountains, flower vases, and marble steps. 
We thought of the balconied window of the marble palace 
from which the fair Juliet looked forth upon the quiet night, 
and 'neath which Romeo, " who with love's light wings did 



Juliet's balcony. 307 

o'or-perch these walls," had sworn by " the moon that tips 
with silver all these fruit-tree tops." 

So when our carriage drew up inside an old inclosed 
street or court-yard, shabby and dirty, and the driver pointed 
to the carving of a cardinal's hat over an archway as part 
of the armorial bearings of the Capulet family, we had the 
impression li-om the surroundings that we had halted in an 
old stable-yard, or opposite a third-rate Italian inn. 

This old brick or stone edifice, with two dirty, lounging 
men smoking in the shade of an angle of a staircase, and a 
slattern, sore-eyed woman with a baby in her arms, who came 
and asked alms of us, an old ruined cart, and a heap of rub- 
bish for surroundings, — and that old rounded window, — 
Juliet's balcony ! — a flannel shirt was hanging out from it 
to dry, — and the smell of garlic, too — faugh ! How glori- 
ous garden, perfume of flowers, plashing fountains, and fra- 
grant orchards vanished like a vision of romance as they 
were, as our carriage rolled out of the Via Capello, and we 
rode to the garden said to contain the gentle Juliet's tomb. 

There is not quite so rude a shock to the imagination 
here. We halt beside the dead wall of a large garden, and 
an old woman coming from a house near the gate, unlocks 
it, and we follow her along the long broad path at one side 
of the garden, above which a pleasant shade was formed by 
overarching trellised grape-vines. Turning at right angles 
from our path at the furthermost corner of the garden, we 
reached a sort of cheap, two-story brick shed. Three simple 
arches formed the lower story, the middle one forming a 
door, open except a protection of light iron grating, and 
contained what we were asked to believe was the sar- 
cophagus of Juliet, and which looked like an old shoe-shaped 
sort of stone trough, the length of which suggested that the 
gentle Veronese must have been short in stature. 

The garrulous old woman, our guide, told us this chapel 
was not the real location of the tomb ; but leading us to a 
spot in the centre of the garden, said here stood the tomb 



308 TOMB OF THE CAPULETS. 

of the Capulets, and plucking a bit of geranium from the 
spot, stuck it in my button-hole. Here we were told Juliet's 
sarcophagus long stood as a washing-trough till the con- 
tinued visits of tourists gave it such value that it was re- 
moved and enshrined as we saw it. 

Whether we have stood upon the spot occupied by the 
much-mentioned Tomb of the Capulets we are doubtful ; but, 
if an imaginative mind desires to have the dream of romance 
that has been incited by one of the most charming creations 
of the bard of Avon taken out of it, one cannot have it more 
effectually done, or his sensibilities receive a ruder shock, 
than starting for picturesque mementos of this romantic love 
story, and encountering what is pointed out as all that re- 
mains of it in Verona. 

The dream of youth, the hopes of years, the keen delight 
of anticipation and desire, ended in fruition when I stood in 
the centre of the vast arena of Rome's Flavian Amphithea- 
tre, and repeopled it with the hundred thousand eager and 
expectant spectators, as thoughts flew back to the past ; while 
a visit to the Amphitheatre in Verona took more of a prac- 
tical than an imaginative turn, for here the general features 
have been carefully and sacredly preserved. The ravages 
of the earthquake and the never-failing tooth of time have 
told upon the structure, but the great tier upon tier of mar- 
ble seats still remain, with the vaultings of Roman brick- 
work beneath them perfect and entire, and the building has 
been carefully protected, and from time to time restored at 
various points. 

You may go down to the arena and to the arches, and 
see where were the wild beasts' dens and the gladiators' 
entrances, pass round and examine the admirable arrange- 
ments for entrance and exit of the audience, walk through 
corridors and up staircases, and, having fresh in recollec- 
tion the ruins of the Roman Colosseum, may be able to fill 
out the wanting fragments in that vast ruin. The founder 
of the latter is known, but the founder of the Veronese 



TUB VERONA AMPHITHEATRE. 309 

Amphitheatre, or the year in which it was erected, is un- 
known : it is only supposed to have been built about a. d. 85. 

The theatre is built of Verona marble, formed a grand 
circle of fourteen hundred and thirty feet, and was originally 
about one hundred and twenty feet in height from the pave- 
ment. There were originally seventy-two arches of the 
outer ring (eight less than in the Colosseum), but, notwith- 
standing all the care that has been taken to preserve the 
structure, dating back to edicts in 1228, but four of the 
original outer arches, according to a guide-book I found at 
my hotel on returning, have been preserved. If this be so, 
what I took for the real outer row must have been mainly 
restorations. 

There was one set of arches, however, that there was no 
disputing the antiquity of, and that was the only remaining 
four of the topmost tier that ran its graceful circle round 
the whole structure, a hundred feet above the pavement. 
This fragment was all that was spared by the earthquake 
that toppled the rest to the ground nearly seven hundred 
years ago. But over this, according to historical authority, . 
there was a fourth story of lesser arches going completely 
round the building, so that the whole structure must have 
been at least one hundred and twenty feet in height. 

Inside, and we have the grand entrances and tiers of seats 
preserved or restored so completely that quite a correct idea 
may be had of what the structure really was in its prime. 
We climbed to the top and looked down into the arena, an 
ellipse two hundred and sixty-three feet long by one hun- 
dred and forty-six feet wide, surrounded by its rings of mar- 
ble benches, of which I counted forty-two, one above the 
other to the top, and was informed that there were two 
more rows sunk beneath the present level of the arena ; and, 
when we descended, the guide showed us, by means of an 
aperture in the present flooring, through which he thrust a 
pole, that the real arena was several feet below the present 
surface. We were also shown the ruins of an old aque- 



310 KODEEN" PERFOKMANCE IIST ANCIENT CIRCUS. 

duct, used, it was said, to flood the arena when naval spec- 
tacles or combats were to be presented. The ancient 
benches in the auditorium appeared to have been vast 
blocks of marble, accurately cut and jointed into perfect 
rings of masonry, but the restorations are of stone, of a 
more perishable or flaky nature. Each row of seats was 
about one and a half feet in height, and of the same breadth, 
with about a foot and a half space allowed for each specta- 
tor ; of course, no backs to any seats, unless, perchance, 
curule chairs, or other movable seats, occupied the podium 
for sediles, prefects, consuls, and other privileged patricians. 
At one end, railed off, a portion of the arena was occu- 
pied, when we visited it, by a temporary structure, which 
had a small stage before it, upon which, we were informed, 
an exhibition of jugglery and gymnastics was to take place ; 
and the audience of about two hundred persons were sitting 
upon the same stone seats from which, a thousand years be- 
fore, their ancestors looked down upon the fierce contests 
of furious beasts or still more cruel gladiators, who fought 
each other with deadly fury. This audience, of two hun- 
dred spectators or so, looked absurdly small, gathered, as it 
was, at one end of the great ellipse, — something like a 
little cluster of flies at the corner of a table-cloth, for the 
capacity of the interior is for about twenty-five thousand 
spectators. So, while this little knot were patiently listen- 
ing to an orchestra of three pieces that was industriously 
plajnng a preliminary overture, we turned and took such 
a view of the city as we could from the topmost tier, and 
looked down into the adjoining square, laid out in such fan- 
ciful figures as to remind one of a kaleidoscope, and, after 
one more farewell sweep of the eye over the grand ellipse 
of the interior, descended. 

A short drive brought us to a narrow thoroughfare, in 
and near which stood the monuments of the Delia Scala 
family (Scaligeri) ; and one circumstance that redounds to 
the credit of the Veronese, or maybe to that of their ene- 



BELLA. SCALA FAMILY MONUMENTS. 311 

mies, is, that these sumptuous monuments to the lords of 
Verona have been so well preserved as they are, notwith- 
standing- they are in the heart of the city, and some of 
them have stood in a narrow and crowded thoroughfare for 
more than five hundred years, that has been the scene of 
frequent conflicts. The monuments are very elaborate. 
That which first claimed our attention was, of course, that 
of Can Grande, which sig-nifies the Great Dog, though, for 
what reason he was called by that canine title, history is 
silent. Nevertheless, it was he that afforded the poet Dante 
protection, and the poet immortalized him in the seventeenth 
canto of his " Faradiso,^' referring to his as — 

"■ • • the great Lombard's courtesy, who bears 
Upon the ladder perched, the sacred bird ; " 

and in a dozen or more lines, which, as all the guide-books 
quote, I will not ; but which lines have done more to pre- 
serve the "great Lombard's" name since his death, in 
1329, than his costly monument, which forms a sort of por- 
tico, as it were, to the Church of Santa Maria Antica. 

This monument, or portico, consists of three sections, sup- 
ported by handsome columns, with elaboi*ately wrought capi- 
tals. First are figures of dogs, with the ladder and shield, — 
armorial bearings of the Delia Scala family. These uphold 
the sarcophagus, upon which is stretched a full-length, re- 
cumbent figure of Can Grande, with sword girt to his side. 
Above this rises a pyramid, upon which is his sculptured 
representation on horseback, and in full armor. 

The Tomb of Martin II. is also quite an elaborate piece 
of work, the large block of marble which supports his funeral 
urn being upheld by four columns, each with an architrave of 
nine feet. Four other columns uphold a canopy above this, 
which cover the urn ; and above, he is sculptured as large 
as life, on horseback. 

That which appeared to me as the most beautiful of all 
these monuments — and there were, I think, six or seven of 
them in all — was that of Can Signorio, who, notwithstanding 



312 A murderer's mausoleum. 

he was the murderer of his two brothers in the twelfth cen- 
tury, is honored with a most sumptuous mausoleum. Not- 
withstanding- the low state of morals^ in Italy at that time, 
this, in a measure, may be accounted for when we find that 
ho had it designed himself previous to his death, and deter- 
mined that, in sumptuousness of design and execution, it 
should surpass that of any of his predecessors. Six elegant 
columns support the first or lower section, and it is com- 
posed of fo^ur different sections, one above the other. 
Among the difierent sculptured figures supporting some of 
these different divisions, I noticed those of Faith and Char- 
ity, and other allegorical representations of virtues ; also, 
six knightly figures, upon as many pilasters about the monu- 
ment. The recumbent figure is on one of the divisions of 
the structure ; and the whole is surmounted by a handsomely 
sculptured life-size equestrian figure. 

The inclosure here is the old cemetery of the church, and 
was the family burial-place. The iron fencing, or rail-work 
surrounding the tombs, is pointed out to visitors as being 
extremely rich ; and it is, as a specimen of iron skilfully 
wrought by handwork, graceful and flexible, the design be- 
ing the ladder (scala) of the arms of the family, intermin- 
gled with quatrefoils and delicate tracery. 

From these tombs we whirled away through quaint old 
streets, and emerged into the Piazza dei Erbe, a vegetable 
mai-ket place, noisy with the clatter of market-women, and 
surrounded by several quaint old Gothic buildings, and having 
at one end a tower erected by the same Can Signorio whose 
tomb we had just left, and in which he placed the first 
clock put up in Verona. Many of the other curious old 
buildings doubtless had interesting stories connected with 
them, if we could have found them out. One was a mer- 
chants' Exchange, built in 1301. There stood also in this 
square the pillar which once supported the Winged Lion of 
St. Mark when Verona was subject to Venice, but which 
was removed from its lofty pedestal in 1T99. 



SCENIC STREETS. 313 

Our drives about the city took us beneath some of the old 
Roman arches, one being called the Porta dei Borsari, which 
extends directly across one of the principal streets, — an 
ancient double gateway, which, from inscriptions upon it, 
appears to have been built in the reign of the Roman Em- 
peror Gallienus, about the year 265. For more than six cen- 
turies has this handsome marble barrier — for it is singularly 
rich in ornament — stood here across the public highway. 
Each of its gateways has Corinthian pilasters upholding a 
light pediment, and above are two stories, with six small, 
arched windows in each. The various flutings, columns, 
and curious ornamentations of the structure, which are nu- 
merous, must afford an interesting study to those archi- 
tecturally inclined. 

Verona is a Gothic old city as regards architecture, and 
full of curious and interesting streets, squares, and churches. 
Strolling along during the afternoon, I came to a street 
named after the great Italian poet Dante, and it carried me 
into a broad, rather quiet square, or what would have been 
quiet, had it not been for the groups of children, who 
seemed to resort there for an evening's romp. One pom- 
pous, uniformed official, with a large, ornamented cane, 
stood watching the proceedings ; and he, I found, was a 
policeman. 

The square was surrounded by lofty old buildings, formerly 
the dwellings of the lords of Verona ; and our theatrical 
scene-painters ought to get sketches of it as a good scene 
to transfer to canvas. In fact, Verona is rich in picturesque, 
theatrical scenery-looking streets, with quaint architecture 
and coloring, light, and shade ; and even the dinginess that 
reminds one of the worn side-scenes and serviceable flats 
that answer equally well for a " Street in Lyons" in the 
drama of " The Lady of Lyons," a " Square in Mantua " in 
" The "Wife," a street-scene in " Romeo and Juliet," or 
similar scenes from a dozen other plays one might mention. 
In the middle of this square stands a beautiful colossal 



314 EELIC OF THE MIDDLE AGES. 

statue of Dante. He is represented as looking towards the 
house in which he was received, during his exile, by Can 
Grande. 

One of the most conspicuous buildings upon this square, 
which is called the Piazza dei Signori, is the Palazzo del Con- 
siglio, whose columns, pilasters, and the statues that sur- 
mount it, show it to be a pile of no ordinary merit. The 
statues are said to be those of celebrated men born in 
Verona ; and there is a saying that every man of any note 
in. ancient time, who is recorded as ever having visited 
Verona, is now claimed by the Veronese to have been born 
there. This palace was erected in the fifteenth centur3^, and 
was designed by Father Giocondo, who, besides being an 
excellent scholar and contributing much to literature, was 
one of the best architects of his times. The Campanile, in 
this square, is a splendid specimen of brick masonry, soar- 
ing three hundred feet into the air. 

We did not go over the Castle Vecchio, which stood 
near the swiftly flowing river Adige, but contented our- 
selves looking at the exterior of this picturesque and battle- 
mented old relic of the Middle Ages ; but the turreted and 
battleraented bridge — this must not be left out of our 
experience. This, too, with its ancient brick arches, is an 
exceedingly picturesque object, and one of its arches makes 
a span of one hundred and sixty-one feet. It was built in 
1355, and from it we enjoyed some fine views up and down 
the swiftly flowing stream. 

Travellers who are interested in visiting churches will 
find enough to claim their attention in Verona, and to use 
up no inconsiderable portion of time, for there are said to 
be over forty different churches here. I can confess to but 
three, and these were inspected almost as hastily as the 
director of an American charitable institution goes through 
it on the annual visit of the Board. 

The Cathedral, they pretend to say, was built by Charle- 
magne, but the guide-books and other authorities place it 



CATHEDRAL AT VERONA. 315 

as an edifice of the twelfth century. As far as quaint and 
curious antiquity of some parts of it is concerned, one might 
readily believe it to have been built in the time of Charle- 
magne, but portions are known to be, and can be readily 
recognized as additions and productions of a later date. 

One of the chief exterior attractions which everybody 
goes to see is the opnaraeuted porch at one of the entrances, 
where, besides the arches and columns supported by griflSns, 
there stand, on either side of the door, sculptured repre- 
sentations of those noted paladins, Roland (or Orlando, that 
being the Italian form of the name) and Oliver, In his right 
liand Roland holds his celebrated sword Durindada, which, 
it will be recollected, the fable says he won from a Sara- 
cen warrior, and that it once belonged to Hector of Troy, 
The sculptor has cut the name of the sword upon it, that 
its character may be fully understood by the visitor. One 
of the noted warrior's legs and feet is in armor, and the 
other bare. Oliver, on the other side of the entrance, is also 
an armed figure ; and he bears in his hand, not a sword, but a 
club, to which is attached a round, spiked ball, something 
like a weapon with a longer handle I remember to have seen 
at the Tower of London Armory, and called there, I think, 
the " morning star," and calculated, when swung by a 
stalwart arm, to make the owner of the head it might en- 
counter " see stars," if it did not let daylight in. 

They point out to you, among the sculptures over the 
door, that of a hog dressed as a monk, and standing upon 
his hind legs with his fore feet planted in an open book, as 
if officiating at some ceremony, — a satire in stone work ; 
and upon a porch on another side of the church are ranges 
of columns, upon which the sculptor has seemed to revel in 
carving burlesque and satirical work in his art, of grotesque 
heads of imps or saints, beautiful tracery, and ornament in- 
termingled as if working with freedom to show what could 
be produced from his chisel. 

I will not tire the reader with a description of the inte- 



316 CHURCH OF ST. ANASTASIA. 

rior, where is the beautiful picture of the Assumption, by 
Titian, a fine one of the Adoration of the Three Kings, be- 
sides many rich and curious chapels of old Verona families, 
with pedigrees running back I don't know how many hun- 
dred years. Some of these chapels are extremely rich and 
elegant in their decorations, notably so that of the Maffei 
family. We might, if we had a permit, we were told, have 
gone into the great library, which is entered from the clois- 
ters of this church, — a collection rich in ancient literature, 
containing manuscripts written in the fourth and fifth cen- 
turies. Many of the manuscripts in this collection were 
discovered to be palimpsests of great value. But we must 
confess to doing Verona hastily ; for the fierce heat of au 
Italian sun was making itself felt, and the season well ad- 
vanced, and we were anxioiis to move towards a region of 
cooler atmosphere. 

The river Adige sweeps round the city of Verona, divid- 
ing it into two parts ; and its rapid stream keeps in motion 
water-mills, which are built on rafts, and anchored in some 
manner at midstream. 

The Church of St. Anastasia, close to the entrance of our 
hotel, we visited one afternoon, delighted to get into its 
cool interior from beneath the rays of the sun. This old 
church, Gothic in its style of architecture, was built by the 
Dominicans in the thirteenth century. It is about three 
hundred feet long and eighty wide, and has a floor inlaid 
with various-colored marbles. It is filled with side-chapels 
and altars ; the chapels, as usual, of noted Italian families, 
and rich in sculpture, paintings, and decorations. There 
were the St. Germigrano Chapel, with a fine old tomb of 
Gothic design and elegant frescos ; the Pellegrini Chapel, 
with a curious set of terra-cotta figures, representing scenes 
in the life of Christ ; the monuments to members of the 
family, and frescos with figures which, we were given to 
understand, were portx'aits of some illustrious members of 
the family, whose dust mouldered in the vaults below ; the 



IN THE TYROL. 317 

Chapel of tlic Fregoso and Lazize, with beautiful altars and 
ancient frescos. There were several monuments to Italian 
authors, mathematicians, and scholars, and paintings that 
bore names that I confess I had, alas ! never heard of be- 
fore ; some of the latter, rich masses of coloring, and with 
those grand effects of grouping, light, and shade, that the 
old masters excelled in, and others the hard, stiff represen- 
tations of saints and martyrs that the tourist becomes wearied 
of from frequent repetition. 

Our railway ride from Verona to Botzen carried us first 
across a bridge over the rushing Adige, and then past a 
great defile with huge walls rising on either side, not far 
from the field of Eivoli, one of Bonaparte's earliest victo- 
ries. We gradually leave what is known as the Valley of 
the Adige, and finally cross the frontier, and are in the 
Tyrol ; and, having been whirled through little towns whose 
names I cannot remember, and past an old castle or two that 
I have forgotten, at last pull up for a brief halt at the sta- 
tion in Trent, a fine old place with walls and towers, and one 
of the principal cities of the Italian Tyrol, on the banks of 
the Adige. 

We leave Trent behind, and after a short ride over another 
bridge, we have crossed and recrossed the Adige two or 
three times in our journey, and had it in sight, as the road 
seems to run in its immediate vicinity, the whole distance to 
Botzen. We ride through the porphyry region of hills, from 
which that stone is taken, cross a final bridge which we are 
told is over the Eisach River that runs into the Adige, 
and halt for a night's rest at Botzen, before going on to old 
Innspruck for a rest and cool-ofi". 

Botzen appeared to be a picturesque town, with quaint 
streets, having arcades under the buildings, a church with a 
curious old red spire, and here and there the streets cut by 
canals of running water ; but the water from above came 
down in a brisk shower on our arrival, and we were glad to 
seek shelter at once, passing on our way a procession of 



818 A NIGHT IN BOTZEN. 

little boys returning from school, headed by a priest, who 
were taking their drenching with much apparent enjoy- 
ment. 

A good dinner was had at the Hotel Kaiserkrone (Em- 
peror's Crown), which the guide-books set down as "com- 
fortable but dear ; " and another hint which they give, which 
tliose who use light wines will be grateful for, is to try the Ter- 
laner wine, which is a fluid of rare excellence, and can only 
be had in this immediate vicinity. It is pure and light in 
its character, of delicate flavor, which for some reason it is 
said to lose on being transported to any distance. 

I had promised myself a good night's rest at Botzen, at a 
good hotel, and in a town, as it looked to be, the very spot 
to enjoy dreamy musings and sound slumbers. 

A picturesque church-steeple was pointed out to me from 
my chamber-window by the ofScious valet de place. He had 
called to proffer services, and was sorry I was not going to 
stay the next day, and go into it and see some old carved 
font or pulpit, or go to the old castle built by the Archduke 
Sigismund in 14Y3. But I remembered that old steeple, for 
at four o'clock next morning began its jangle of bells, and 
again and again their brazen clangor was repeated every 
half hour, rendering slumber impossible, and, as I threw 
open my window-blinds to breathe the fresh morning air at 
half past six, just after the peal at that time had ceased, I 
saw the bell-ringer leaning out of a window from the bell- 
tower of the steeple getting cooled off after his exertions. 
The only revenge I could take upon this tintinnabulator was 
to shake my fist at him, which act seems to have encouraged 
him to renewed exertions, judging from the rattling peal he 
rung out half an hour later. 

From Botzen to Innspruck by rail by the Brenner Pass 
carried us through some romantic scenery, but really the way 
to enjoy the scenery of Swiss or Tyrolean mountain-passes 
is to travel by private post-carriages. The Brenner Pass is 
one of the least interesting, however, of the Alpine passes, 



TYROLEAN SCENERY. 319 

and the road being' lowest down is open at all seasons of the 
year ; so we comforted ourselves with this assurance and the 
knowledge that numerous other experiences over mountain- 
passes by other methods should be an excuse for adopting 
that annihilator of time and romance in travel, tlie railway 
train. 

We left Botzen behind, whirled through a great tunnel 
twelve hundred feet long, cut through porphyry rock, and 
passed by views of a beautiful country with a background 
of pi*ecipitous crags and mountains. The railway follows 
along, for some distance, the river Eisach, in a narrow ravine, 
with high porphyry cliffs on either side. Then we pass the 
Castle of Trostburg, a picturesque little structure perched 
on an elevation high above the road, and various other ruins 
or fragments here and there amid the rock}' fastnesses, but 
few of which the tourist will remember unless he make 
industrious use of pencil and note-book. I have in mind the 
richest monastery in Tyrol, said to be in a little village that 
looked liardly big enough to support the church which stood 
guard over it like a giant with a flock of lambs at his feet. 
Then we ran over a flat expanse of country, said to be the 
scene of one of Hofer's victories, and see a castle called 
Reifenstein, that some old fellow lived in who was a wonder- 
ful huntsman or sportsman ; — fill out anj^ Tyrolean legend 
of a marvellous rifle-shot, and revelry in the castle hall, and 
you will probably have the story. Not more than five or six 
miles further on, and a good-natured German compagnon de 
voyage, who speaks English, points out an old stronghold 
known as Raubenstein, or Robber's Nest. In fact, that was 
really the character of half these old castles in the feudal 
ages, whose owners lived b}' lev^'ing contributions on neigh- 
boring provinces or passing travellers. 

We made a brief halt at Brenner, a station which is said 
to be the highest point reached by the railroad, being about 
fortj'-eight hundred feet above the level of the sea. Here 
they point out two little streams, one of which is a noisy 



820 THE ALPS AGAIIf. 

and bustling little, waterfall or cascade, and is said to be 
the beginning of the river Eisach, whose rapid flood we 
crossed once or twice at the commencement of our journey ; 
and the other a small stream that begins the river Sill. The 
Eisach flows southerly, and pours its tribute into the Adri- 
atic ; and the Sill north, into the Black Sea. As we approach 
Inuspruck the scenery becomes more romantic and beautiful ; 
the great mountains soar into the air, their sides streaked 
with snow, or glittering with silver rivulets that pour down 
from far above ; the train thunders through great ravines, 
with rocky walls on either side, or crosses from one to the 
other on the high stone bridges that span them, and beneath 
which the river Sill rattles in sparkling foam ; then we 
emerge in sight of towering mountains, lifting their great 
frontlets up, up to the very sky above. The Alps ! The 
Alps ! And, as the tourist 

" Hails in each hill a friend's familiar face, 
And clasps the mountain in his mind's embrace," 

he hardly thinks to bestow a glance, just before he reaches 
the Innspruck station, at a distant hill to which his attention 
may be called as indicating the point where Andreas Hofer, 
the Tyrolean patriot, with his army of peasantry, defeated the 
soldiers of France and Bavaria. But of him anon ; for we 
left Botzen at 10 a. m., and now the dial points 5 p. m. as 
we roll into the station at Innspruck. So, though it may be 
quite suggestive that we have been through the pass trav- 
ersed by the young Eoman general Drusus with his legions, 
twelve years before the Christian era, who, though only in 
his twenty-third year, defeated the tribes of Brenni and 
Germani, and completely subjugated the Tyrol, was wel- 
comed back in triumph to Rome, and that his was the ruined 
triumphal arch that we have stood beneath and which St. 
Paul must have passed when he entered the imperial city, 
— though these suggestions may arise, there arises another 
that the tourist too often finds will not be put aside, and 
that is one of hunger and the dinner-hour. 



ixxsrRucK. 321 

We drive tliroiigli the clean, broad, well-kept streets of 
Innspruck, emerge into a broader and wider one which has a 
monument in the middle, a church at one end, and a triumphal 
arch at the other, and the two principal hotels (the Golden 
Sun and Hotel Austria) on either side. We choose the 
latter, and find ourselves in an excellentlj^ managed house, 
with spacious rooms kept faultlessly clean, a table d'hute 
excellent, and attendance that is prompt and efficient. 

Our rooms look out upon the broad street known as the 
Neustadt, according to the guide-book. In the centre of the 
street is a monument that none of the guide-books mention ; 
it is formed of a Avhite Corinthian pillar resting upon a red 
pedestal some twelve feet in height, which in turn rests upon 
a base consisting of three broad steps. In the pedestal on 
sunken panels are bas-reliefs of religious and allegorical sub- 
jects, and upon it, at the base of the Corinthian pillar, stand 
life-size figures of St. Vigilius and St. Cassian (two apostles 
of the Tyrol), and St. Anne and St. George. The top of the 
pillar is surmounted by an effigy in honor of the Immacu- 
late Conception. On the steps at the base of this monument, 
at noon, would four or five little apprentice boys, workers 
somewhere in the. neighborhood, rendezvous ; and here their 
brothers and sisters, mites of four or five years of age, in 
coarse garments and wooden shoes, bring them their dinners, 
— a sort of porridge in an earthen pot, — which were eaten 
with gusto with an iron spoon by these artisans of twelve 
years old during their half hour's nooning. This monu- 
ment, which is one of the most conspicuous features of the 
town, is built of the marbles of the country, and was erected 
in memory of a victory of the Tyrolese over the Bavarians 
and French in 1703, when a large portion of the Tyrol had 
been overrun, Innspruck taken, and when Maximilian of Ba- 
varia was so confident of its entire subjugation, that he had 
ordered the 7'e Deum to be sung in the churches. But the 
Tyroleans, recovering from their first surprise, roused the 
whole country by means of alarm-fires and messengers, and the 
21 



322 AN AMPHITHEATRE OF ALPS. 

enemy were caught in one of the mountain-passes, and com- 
pletely destroyed. 

This famous success is celebrated on the first day of July 
by a solemn procession round the square, which we were 
fortunate enough to see. The religious element predom- 
inated largely in the display. The procession issuing from 
one of the churches consisted of a band of music ; monks 
bearing crosiers and gilded crosses ; acolytes swinging cen- 
sers of burning incense ; barefooted friars who sang Latin 
chants ; four uniformed officials supporting a canopy beneath 
which walked a mitred bishop whose magnificently em- 
broidered vestments were upheld by pages who walked be- 
hind; young girls and boys, and men with uncovered heads; 
soldiers, and all the paraphernalia of pomp and parade the 
Church of Rome knows so well how to effectually display. 
They made the entire detour of the square, and when he 
who bore the host passed, with the monks chanting behind 
him, the crowd in the street uncovered their heads and fell 
upon their knees in silent adoration. 

Standing in the middle of this Neustadt, the lofty moun- 
tains that tower all round above us, six to eight thousand 
feet high, seem close at hand, so close that one might fire 
a rifle-shot down into the square ; but, though they appear 
thus to actually overhang the town, they are some miles 
distant. The town is really in the middle of a valley upon 
the banks of the river Inn, which joins its swiftly rushing 
current near here with that of the Sill. It is surrounded by 
natural beauties and romantic scenery, and is eighteen hun- 
dred feet above the sea-level. 

The great mountains that form the walls of the valley in 
which the town is situated are a perpetual pleasure to the 
traveller who enjoys mountain views, and the varied pictures 
they present in the spring season, of their great patches of 
snow near the top, ribbons of water further down, and luxu- 
rious green succeeding beneath in the pleasant sunshine. A 
cooler atmosphere is experienced some morning, perhaps, 



THE GOLDEN ROOI". 323 

and, casting the gaze upwards, we discover that a fresh 
wliite mantle has been spread during' the night, and the ad- 
vancing breath of summer is tempered by the cool blast of 
the snow-field till it gradually yields to the sun's rays, be- 
neath which the little chalets, mountain paths, and verdure, 
and sparkling streams, come out in the clear atmosphere like 
a picture mellowed by the distance. 

At one end of the street stands what is known as the 
Golden Roof, one of the sights of Innspruck. This is now 
an old post-house, or place for the starting of post-wagons ; 
that is, the lower part of it, which is an open archway, and 
is a fragment or all that remains of a once princely palace. 
Above is a balustrade, with six coats of arms, or heraldic 
shields, of the provinces under Maximilian's government. 
Above this, in front of the second story, another balus- 
trade, upon the six sections of which are carved figures in 
various fantastic attitudes ; and above this, like a large- 
sized Italian awning, projects the "golden roof," an awning 
of gilt copper, eighteen or twenty feet wide. 

The story runs that, in 1425, Frederick, Count of Tyrol, 
who dwelt here, annoyed by the sobriquet of "empty purse," 
built this "golden roof" at an expense of thirty thou- 
sand ducats, to show that his purse was not empty. The 
guide-book story, we may say, however, is not the true one ; 
for Frederick was no spendthrift, but expended his means 
liberally for the people ; and, to show the envious nobles who 
applied the nickname to him that, despite his self-abnega- 
tion and charity, he had means, he built his ornamental 
roof, this fragment of which is preserved in his memory. 

Around in this vicinity ai'e some of the older buildings 
of the city, projecting over and forming covered arcades 
like those noted in Berne, Botzen, and Verona. 

At the other end of the Neustadt, which is a broad, 
handsome, and well-paved street, stands the triumphal arch 
of Maria Theresa, who arranged in 1 765 that the marriage 
of her son (afterwards Leopold II.) with Maria Louisa, 



324 AN HISTORIC BEAUTY. 

daughter of Charles III. of Spain, should take place at 
Innspruck. The inhabitants, appreciating this honor to 
their city, made numerous public improvements in prepara- 
tion for the event, decorated the streets and public build- 
ings, and erected this arch at the point where the imperial 
party would enter the city, which tliey did on the 15th of 
July, attracting a large and brilliant assemblage. The 
royal alEanced ones wei-e married August 5, and Innsprack 
had a month of gayety and festivity. 

The arch is rather a clumsy-looking structure, consisting 
of one lofty central arch, through which passes the carriage- 
way, and two lesser on each side for foot travel. Above 
the entablature, which is supported by two pillars and four 
pilasters, are two allegorical figures supporting the medal- 
lion of Francis I., and over the lesser archways medallions 
of other royal heads. 

Passing by a shop-window one day, my attention was 
attracted by a small, handsomely finished oil-painting, that 
appeared to be a copy of the portrait of a beautiful woman. 
It was so pretty that I halted again on my return to gaze 
once more upon it, and finally became so much interested 
as to enter the shop and -inquire who was the owner of 
those sweet features, when I found I had stumbled upon 
another of the celebrities of Innspruck, and was made 
acquainted with the main points in the romantic history of 
Philippina Welser, the historic beauty of the old city. The 
beautiful little copy of her picture is made from the original 
portrait, once kept at the Ambras Castle, which we straight- 
way made haste to visit. 

Philippina's father was a wealthy old burgher, but his 
daughter, though beautiful, was not eligible as a royal 
bride ; but it chanced, when the Emperor Charles V. came 
into Augsburg, in 154'7, that the young and handsome Prince 
Ferdinand II. rode by his side, and as the burgher's beauti- 
ful daughter leaned forward from her window to throw a 
wreath of flowers towards the emperor, the prince caught 



EOTAL FELICITY. 325 

sight of her, and she of him, and it was a genuine case of 
love at first siglit. But the course of true love never did 
run smooth ; for the young lady had been betrothed by 
her father to the eldest son and heir of another rich old 
burgher in Augsburg named Fugger, who was anxious for 
the match, and old Welser having given his word, was 
sturdily honest and would not break it, even for a prince. 
The only thing left for the lovers was an elopement, which 
took place. It is said by some authorities that the young 
archduke's marriage gave offence to his father, who consid- 
ered it degrading, and that it was not until twelve years 
after that the beautiful Philippina succeeded in so moving 
him by her beauty and pleadings that he consented to 
acknowledge her, and created her two sons margraves. 

This story, however, is denied by other autliorities, and 
is said to refer to the succeeding emperor, Maximilian II., 
who acknowledged the legality of Ferdinand's marriage on 
condition that the issue of it should not claim the rank of 
Archdukes of Austria. The offspring of this happy mar- 
riage was two sons, of whom one became a bishop and car- 
dinal, and the other Margrave of Burgau; and his father left 
the latter this fine old castle, Schloss Ambras, where he and 
his amiable wife Philippina had passed thirty years of un- 
alloyed happiness and wedded life, — a rare circumstance 
with Toyal couples, especially in a match of such descrip- 
tion as this, so likely to provoke family jealousy. 

The old castle was left to the son Andreas on condition 
that he would preserve the armor, books, manuscripts, 
works of art and vertu. On the death of the son the 
castle became the pleasure-seat of the royal family, was 
afterwards used as a barrack, but in 1842 was cleared out, 
renovated, and repaired. 

It is but a short ride from the town, the last portion of 
the way being an ascent of the eminence upon which it 
stands. Schloss Ambras has anything but the appearance 
of a castle, lacking its round towers, turrets, and battle- 



326 AMBEAS CASTLE. 

ments, though the wall towards the valley has something 
of a fort-like appearance ; but the building looks more like 
a big whitewashed factory, nunnery, or barracks, than a 
mediseval castle of the thirteenth century. The surround- 
ings and walks, however, are very pretty, and the view 
from it grand, beautiful, and extensive. The whole valley 
of the river Inn, with its grand background of lofty moun- 
tains, is taken in at one sweep of the eye. The towns of 
Innspruck and Hall, and various little white villages here 
and there dotting the beautiful landscape, winding roads, 
and glittering river, — all form a charming picture. The 
castle is a great rambling mansion, with but little to interest 
the visitor. An ornamented cabinet and writing-desk, said 
to have been that used by Philippina, some curious old 
specimens of wood carving, a few specimens of arms and 
armor, and some old paintings, are shown. The collection 
of ancient armor that was formerly preserved here, consist- 
ing of suits owned and worn by various noble personages, 
kings, warriors, and knights, and authenticated beyond a 
doubt, was, to preserve it, removed to Vienna, where it is 
known as the Ambras Collection, and fills three large halls, 
being one of the most interesting collections of memorials 
of ancient chivalry and historical mementos of the manners 
of the middle ages in existence. 

The chief interest in the old Schloss seems to be that it 
was the residence of this Philippina Welser, who, besides 
being a beautiful woman, was a model of domestic virtues, 
and as such was so endeared to the popular mind, that to 
this day her picture adorns many a peasant's cottage, and 
her story is one of the popular traditions of the Tyrol. 

Returning home, we rode over a bridge spanning the Sill, 
which is a quiet little river in comparison with the Inn, a 
roaring, rushing stream, flowing with tremendous force, and 
fairly making the strong wooden bridge, built only for foot 
passengers, quiver, as we stood upon it one evening, en- 
joying the beautiful views up and down the river, and lookr 



ANDREAS HOFER. 327 

ing at the strollers on the banks. The Hofgarten, which is 
a sort of small Champa Elijsees, and begins at one side of 
the royal palace, an uninteresting building, runs down to 
the banks of the river at this point, near the wooden 
bridge. Further down the river is a more substantial and 
modern chain-bridge, with massive stone structures for 
supports at each end. 

Not far from the old bridge is the scene of one of the 
severest actions of the Tyrolean peasantry, under the com- 
mand of Hofer, in their war for independence against the 
Bavarians and French. In and about Innspruck are the 
scenes of Hofer's memorable struggles ; and carvings in 
wood, portraits, pictures, busts, and engravings of him are 
plentiful in the shops. The treaty of Pressburg in 1805 
gave Tyrol to Bavaria, the allied troops under Marshal Ney 
poured in, the fortresses on the Bavarian frontier were 
destroyed, and Innspruck occupied. Early in 1806 Ney 
left, and the town was delivered over to the Bavarian gov- 
ernment. The Bavarians appear not to have had the least 
idea of the characteristics of the inhabitants, for they made 
most obnoxious and unpopular laws, conflicting with the 
people's customs and religious belief, and in many ways 
made the yoke of their government excessively galling. 

At last Hofer and Spechbacher, in April, 1809, drove out 
the Bavarians and beat back invading forces of superior 
numbers several times with great bravery. The achieve- 
ments of these patriots were nullified by the Peace of 
Schonbrun, concluded October 25, of the same year ; but 
the people, although desired by their sovereign, the emperor 
of Austria, to cease operations, could hardly be brought to 
believe that he really desired them to yield, but thought 
that he was forced to send them instructions by Napoleon, 
and so warfare was kept up by them in their mountain fast- 
nesses. At last the French, by offering a large reward, 
succeeded through treachery in capturing Hofer, and after 
a brief trial he was condemned to be shot, and the sentence 



828 MUSEUM AT INXSPBUCK. 

was executed in Mantua, the brave Tyrolean meeting his 
fate with the most undaunted courage, refusing to have his 
eyes bandaged, and himself giving orders to the soldiers to 
fire upon him as he stood befcrre their levelled muskets on 
the 20th of February, 1810, and fell at the age of forty-five 
years. 

The Museum is planned with a design of exhibiting the 
productions, manufactures, mineral and vegetable products 
of the Tyrol, as well as specimens of its literature, natural 
history, and fine arts. It is really a strictly national exhi- 
bition, and as such is interesting to tourists who will spare 
the time to visit it. 

Upon the lower floor were minerals, marbles, and various 
ores found in the mountains, and we saw among the latter 
some fine specimens of gold and quicksilver. Splendid 
specimens of marble, porphyry, malachite, and curious min- 
erals, were also displayed here. But a treat to the bot- 
anist was the beautiful herbarium, which contained a com- 
plete collection of the rich flora of the country, and all the 
varieties of the graceful, delicate, and beautiful flowers and 
blossoms which in spring and summer enchant the traveller 
with their beauty, or interest him in their curious forms and 
hues, as he journeys over the mountain passes. Among 
the exhibits of products and manufactures were beautiful 
specimens of salt from the salt mines of Hall, and models 
of machinery used at the mines, also silk and worsted work, 
and a variety of the wonderful wood carving from a part of 
the Tyrol called Grodnerthal, where this art is carried to a 
great degree of perfection. Some of the figures excel 
statuettes in detail and effectiveness of execution. 

The reproductions in wood carving of the bronze figures 
of King Arthur and Theodoric, which stand in the Francis- 
can Church, are done with great fidelity, and command a 
good price in the shops from strangers as curiosities. I 
have before me, as I write, the figure of King Arthur, cut 
from some ordinary wood of the country (said to be apple- 



SPIDER WEB PICTURES. 329 

tree wood). Although but ten inches in height, it is in 
excellent proportion, a knight in full armor, outer armor, 
under-shirt of chain mail, with the links perfectly wrought, 
sword and sword-belt, gauntlets, helmet with movable visor, 
and collar of an order of knighthood, all elaborately carved. 

Another curiosity seen only here in Innspruck are paintings 
upon spiders' webs. These webs are nearly the size one 
sees spangled with raindrops in the grass on a cloudy 
morning, where they look vastly prettier : by some process 
the webs are made to receive delicate colors, and by the 
combination of web and painting to present effective land- 
scapes and even portraits of Philippina Wclser, Ilofer, and 
various saints, without injuring the fragile canvas. The 
web may be of some extraordinary species of spider, or, 
more probably, prepared in some peculiar manner, for the 
artist, for the process of the production of these pictures is 
said to be a secret in the possession of one family, who have 
held it for several generations. Among the manufactured 
articles were specimens of cutlery, iron-ware, and tools — 
some rather curious and clumsy-looking ones — that come 
from a portion of the country where the inhabitants are 
nearly all blacksmiths and tool-makers. 

In the library, they have, among other literary treasures, 
several fine illuminated manuscripts from the patient fingers 
of the old Carthusian and Dominican Monks of three or four 
hundred years ago, and some early works struck off from 
one of the early printing-presses, which was brought 
from Schwatz, another Tyrolean town, and set up in Inn- 
spruck in 1529. They also have here a letter written by 
Lord Bathurst, which he sent with thirty thousand pounds 
from the British government to Hofer and his patriotic 
countrymen to assist them in their efforts against the 
French ; but all too late, as it did not reach its destination 
until the struggle was entirely over. 

Among the more modern manuscripts the old custodian 
showed us, with some degree of pride, an extract from 



330 THE COURT CHURCH. 

Longfellow's poem of " Excelsior," with the poet's auto- 
graph attached, and further informed us that he had, when 
the poet visited the Museum, a discussion with him as to 
the proper use of the word, he, the custodian, contending 
that the word as used by the poet was an adjective, 
whereas it should have been used as an adverb, and been 
" Excelsius." Mr. Longfellow, he informed us, admitted in 
some respects the justice of his criticism. One may readily 
imagine that, when a poet's works have so wide a reputa- 
tion that he finds extracts from thena repeated by heart 
among the Tyrolean mountains, or, as they are, inscribed 
in Chinese characters upon the door-posts, in the Celestial 
Empire, while his lyre is still in tune, he may feel gratified 
enough to bow to criticism and critics like this with 
unrufiled composure. 

The relics of the brave Hofer, which all visitors look upon 
with interest, are a letter written by him shortly before his 
death, his rifle, his braces and belt, and a medal that he 
wore around his neck when he was shot. The custodian 
was eloquent over his patriotic countryman, whom all ac- 
counts agree in recording as a man of rigid honesty, truth- 
fulness, and humanit}'^, and his brief career of command as 
being unstained by a single dishonorable act, or unworthy 
deed. 

The Franciscan Church, or Hofkirche (hoafkeercha), as 
they call it here, signifying the court church, a building not 
at all remarkable for architectural beauty, was begun in 
1643, and consecrated in 1563, and is, with its contents, the 
chief and great attraction to tourists. Indeed, the great 
tomb of Maximilian I. in this church is one of the most 
magnificent and elaborate monuments in Europe, and the 
twenty-eight colossal bronze statues that adorn the aisles 
are curious and wonderful specimens of art. 

But we will first turn our attention to the Tomb and 
Monument of Hofer, which is directly at the visitor's left on 
entering the church. It consists of a square sarcophagus 



A WONDERFUL MONUMENT. B31 

Burmounted by his full-length marble statue, which was cut 
from Tyrolese white marble by a Tyrolean sculptor. lie is 
represented in Tyrolean uniform, has the broad belt, short 
breeches, long boots, and frock ; one hand grasps the end 
of tlie carbine swung at his back, as though about to bring 
it forward, and the other holds the staff" of an unfurled flag, 
while his Tyrolean hat is thrown down upon the bank at his 
side. Upon the front of the sarcophagus is a bas-relief 
representing the Tyrolean patriots surrounded by their 
countr3'men swearing fealty to their flag. The pedestal bears 
the inscription in Latin, signifying " Death is swallowed up 
in victory ; " and one in German, which translated is, — 

" The grateful Fatherland to its sons fallen in the struggle 
for freedom." 

The great cenotaph of the Emperor Maximilian I. occupies 
the principal portion of the nave of the church. It is a 
monument thirteen feet long, six feet in height, and seven in 
width, composed of different-colored, highly polished marbles, 
and supported on three red marble steps. Upon the top of 
the monument is a colossal kneeling statue in bronze of the 
emperor in full costume, and quite elaborate as a work of 
that description ; but the great wonder of the monument 
is its sides and ends, which are divided into twenty-four 
different compartments of fine white Carrara marble tablets, 
upon which are executed as many different scenes in the 
emperor's life in bas-relief of wonderful execution. The 
amount of labor, artistic skill, and patience that must have 
been betowed upon these pictures in marble (for they can 
hardly be called sculptures), is astonishing. 

They represent sieges, processions, treaties, battles, mar- 
riages, and assemblages ; and in each tablet, although it is 
filled with figures, all the details of costume, grouping, 
architecture, &c., in the scene are given with astonishing 
distinctness, and approaching in minuteness that of a cameo 
cutting. Being faithful representations of the architecture, 
manners, and costumes of the period, they are of high 
historic value. 



332 PICTURES IK MARBLE. 

The monument itself is surrounded by an iron railing, 
through which you can look at these wonderful carvings, 
but the silver key unlocked this for us, and we enjoyed 
several long and close inspections of this marble lace work, 
and furthermore the advantage of seeing it just after it had 
been thoroughly cleansed — a long and laborious work, only 
performed at intervals of many years. The tablets were 
therefore fresh and white as if just from the hands of the 
sculptor, and, though each is but about twice the size of a 
sheet of letter-paper, they presented as graphic a story in 
stone as could well be rendered by sculptor's chisel. 

Among the most interesting was a representation of 
Maximilian entering the city of Vienna in 1490, in which he 
is represented in the foreground, surrounded and followed 
by a crowd of knights, courtiers, and men-at-arms, both on 
foot and on horseback. I counted twenty-eight figures in 
the foreground, all of course of Lilliputian size, but with 
helmets, weapons, armor, and even features faithfully cut 
and finished in detail, many of the heads being portraits. 
In the background was seen the city with its fortifications, 
steeples, and conspicuous buildings, and the long line of 
victorious troops entering it. 

When it is considered that there are faithfully rendered 
upon these small figures such details as the ornaments upon 
the emperor's helmet, the tassels of the horses' ornamented 
bridle-reins, the ribbons at the courtiers' knees, chain-links 
in the armor, spurs at the heel, and even hairs of the head 
and beard, the reader may imagine with what minute accu- 
racy they are given, and that to be enjoyed they should have 
long and careful examination. I will not say how long a 
time I spent kneeling upon the steps of the emperor's tomb, 
looking at these wondrous tablets ; but suggest to those 
who visit it to do as I did, go more than once, and at hours 
when but few visitors are likely to be present, satisfy the 
custodian, which can be done by a moderate fee, and then 
inside the grating you may look them over at your leisure. 



EXQUISITE ARTISTIC WORK. 333 

I have never seen an^'^thing in bas-relief that equals tlic 
superb pictures carved on this splendid mausoleum, and 
description is utterly inadequate to give the reader a proper 
idea of their excellence and beauty. I ought to have men- 
tioned that the artist has in the battle-scenes represented 
the arms and costumes of the different nations correctly, and 
in his representations of Maximilian, who figures in eacii 
tablet, preserves the emperor's likeness throughout, differing 
only in age. For instance, in the scene representing the 
marriage of the prince when but eighteen years of age, in 
14*77, he will be found pi'esented youthful as he was, but 
may be recognized in some of the other scenes as the same 
person come to man's estate. Another instance of the 
minuteness of detail before mentioned in these carvings, 
may be seen in that representing the prince's marriage, 
where the pictures are represented in bas-relief hanging on 
the walls of the apartment in which the ceremony was 
performed. 

These sculptures were begun in 1561 by two brothers, 
Arnold and Bern hard Abel of Cologne, who both died two 
years afterwards, having completed but three tablets. The 
work was then taken up by a sculptor named Alexander 
Colin of Mechlin, aided by a great number of assistant 
artists, and was completed in 156*7. 

Each side of the church, up and down its aisle, upon their 
pedestals between the red marble columns of the church, 
stand twenty-eight colossal bronze figures of emperors, 
kings, princes, empresses, and other notable historical 
characters of Europe, three centuries ago, admirably mod- 
elled, faithfully executed with all the details of armor and 
dress that belonged to the period in which they flourished. 
This company of giants of the past, having assembled as it 
wei'e to do homage at the emperor's tomb, cannot fail to 
impress the visitor with a certain feeling of awe as in the 
twilight of afternoon he sees them standing motionless and 
silent, keeping watch and ward by the tomb of " the last 
of the knights," as Maximilian is sometimes called. 



334 GIANTS IN BRONZE. 

These figures ai'e each eight feet in height, and valuable, 
many of them, as being correct representations of the 
costumes of the sixteenth century. The coronation robes 
with embroidery, figures upon the vestments, the dress, 
accoutrements, arms and armor, drapery, and trimmings of 
both male and female figures, are marvellously well executed, 
and combine to render them some of the most remarkable 
works of their age. 

Another thing that was gratifying to me, as a curious 
and prying American, was the freedom with which we were 
permitted to examine these remarkable figures. Perhaps it 
was because they were too heavy to be carried off, and too 
hard to have fragments broken from them by vandal hands, 
but the privilege of closely examining and freely handling 
them was permitted without restriction ; so that we took 
hold of and admired the figured robe, unbending to the 
touch, but richly ornamented as from the loom, of Mary of 
Burgundy, the emperor's first wife ; examined the curiously 
wrought overcloak and under-robe, in rich embroidery of 
Fi-ederick I., Maximilian's father, who reigned from 1415 to 
1495, or the clumsy figure of the Duke of Burgundy, an 
ancient ancestor of the emperor (640), a thick-set individual 
with clenched fist and arm in thick fluted armor, as if 
about to strike a body blow in a sparring match, and who, 
not content with shirt of mail beneath, wears heavy armor 
over it like a great surtout, and is crowned with a helmet 
heavy enough to weigh down a giant. 

The two figures thought to be the best, and which are 
the most frequently reproduced in wood-carvings of various 
sizes by the Tyrolean wood carvers, are those of Theodoric, 
king of the Ostrogoths from 455 to 526, and King Arthur 
of England. That of Theodoric represents him in good- 
fitting undershirt of chain mail, with flexible sleeves and 
gauntlets, and a short surcoat of mail over it ; his gorget 
and hood, of chain-mail, is crowned by a curious helmet, 
looking very like a grocer's tin flour-scoop with the handle 



A KNIGHTLY FIGURE. 335 

upwards. He is leaning with his right hand upon a pole- 
axe, and his left rests upon his two-handled sword, hip-high, 
as he stands looking downward as in deep thought. 

To my mind, by far the finest figure in the whole collection, 
and one which excels in gracefulness of pose, excellence of 
proportion, and spiritedness of attitude, is that of King 
Arthur of England. It is the very beau-ideal of the bravo 
knight of ancient legend and romantic ballad, elegant and 
graceful in proportion, and richly clad in well-fitting armor, 
that sets off his athletic figure to advantage. The light 
undershirt of chain-mail, lower limbs in plate armor, a close- 
fitting surcoat richly ornamented with the dragon of St. 
George, and a collar of the order about the neck ; head 
covered with a graceful helmet, a light coronet encircling 
its crest, and beneath the movable visor, when raised, the 
determined features of a brave man looking forth. The 
attitude of the figure is very graceful and spirited, the right 
foot firmly planted, the left leg slightly bent, the left arm 
akimbo as the left hand grasps the scabbard of the sword 
that hangs at his hip, the right hand half unclosed appearing 
as if just starting in action to draw the sword to combat 
with a defying enemy. The attitude of the figure is that 
of a knight just on the point of seeking his sword-hilt in 
answer to a challenge, and its admirable pose is in marked 
contrast with the stiffness of most of the others that surround 
it. The visor, or beaver, of the helmet is movable, and may 
be raised by the visitor exposing the bronze features, or left 
down with its crossed bars concealing them. 

The names of these worthies in bronze are all recorded 
in the guide-books, so I will not enumerate them here, save 
to mention that among them, besides those mentioned, are 
old King Clevis, Godfrey de Bouillon the Crusader, and 
Chai'les the Bold, of Burgundy. There are twenty-three 
other bronze figures of small size, originally intended to 
adorn the tomb of Maximilian, that are kept in an apart- 
ment adjoining the church, gained by a short staircase, and 



336 THE SILVER CHAPEL. 

called the Silver Chapel from the fact that it contains a 
statue of the Virgin, and an elaborate altar-piece of elegant 
bas-reliefs in solid silver. These figures are those of indi- 
viduals connected with the house of Hapsburg, and dis- 
tinguished for the sanctity of their lives or deeds, and 
probably each for that reason having the title of saint pi'e- 
fixed to his name. 

The Silver Chapel was built by Ferdinand II., Archduke 
of Austria and Count of Tyrol, to satisfy the devotion of his 
wife, the beautiful Philippina Welser, before mentioned in 
these sketches, to the doctrine of the Immaculate Concep- 
tion. In this chapel she used to offer up her devotions, and 
after her death, in 1580, it was made the place for her mau- 
soleum, which is an altar-shaped tomb, with her recumbent 
efiSgy upon it in marble, a figure of great beauty, above 
which is seen the Angel of Death extinguishing his torch. 
The upright slab in front of the tomb is divided into three 
sections, and upon each side are allegorical figures, repre- 
senting works of charity and mercy, and in the background 
Innspruck'as it was in her day. The middle section con- 
tains an inscription recording the gentle lady's piety and 
good deeds. Ferdinand's monument is in the form of an 
arch, twelve feet high, and nine feet in width. It is of 
white and black marble, and near that of his fair wife. Upon 
it rests his marble eflSgy with upraised hands, and around 
the arch are emblazoned shields bearing the arms of the dif- 
ferent branches of his house. Upon it are four elegant bas- 
reliefs in white marble, similar in character to those on the 
tomb of Maximilian. They are all executed by the same 
artist, Colin of Mechlin, and represent remarkable events in 
Ferdinand's life. 

I have given so much attention to the Hofkirche that I 
shall not fatigue the reader with especial descriptions of the 
others, which contain but little of interest, comparatively 
speaking, after one has visited this. The church and mon- 
astery of the Order of Servites, at the end of the Neustadt, 



A GRATEFUL PICTUKE. 337 

contains some good pictures by native ai'tists, and fine fres- 
cos in tlie roofing ; and tliere is another church known as 
the Dreiheiligkeifskirche, — think of that for a word of 
learned lengtli and thundering sound, which, translated, 
signifies " Holy Trinity Church," — an edifice built by the 
burghers of Innspruck for the Jesuits, in 1611, as a token 
of gratitude for the staying of the ravages of a terrible 
epidemic, in which is au altar-piece representing the three — 
let the reader take breath for another long name — Pest- 
Schutzheiligen — "patron saints against pestilence." This 
church is of the best architectual design of any in Inn- 
spruck, and from the balcony around the lantern of its cupola, 
which is two hundred and fifteen feet from the ground, the 
spectator may enjoy a fine view of the whole valley of the 
river Inn. 

Then there is the Pfarrkirche, containing much beautiful 
marble work of the marbles of the country, with which it is 
lavishly decorated, and frescos in the roof representing 
deeds in the life of St. James, who appears mounted on 
horseback ; and here is told a new version of the familiar 
story of the artist, who, as he was engaged on his lofty plat- 
form ill the cupola, putting the finishing touches to the saint, 
walked backwards to observe the effect of his work, and, 
as he reached the edge, instead of a fi'iend daubing his 
picture and causing him to rush forward from the brink and 
the danger of a fall, the saint in the picture stretched out 
his arm, and with his strong grasp seized, held, and saved 
the artist from being dashed down upon the pavement far 
below — a case of gratitude on the part of an artistic pro- 
duction that will be thought remarkable, ta say the least. 

Innspruck, which is the capital of the Austrian Tyrol, 
has a most interesting history, and has been the scene of 
many notable roj^al receptions, marriages, fetes, and visits, 
and also some severe contests in and about its immediate 
vicinity. It is a pleasant and agreeable place for a week or 
two of rest for the tourist, especially in the months of June 
22 



838 SEEKING COMPANIONS. 

and Julv, the hotel accommodations being good, the town 
quiet and clean, and the rides in the vicinity romantic and 
pleasant. 



CHAPTER XV. 

From Innspruck to St. Moritz, in the upper Engadine, 
they manage to make about a three days' journey by posting, 
and this mode of travel is the most interesting and agreea- 
ble method of going from point to point in the Tyrol. All 
the romance and charm, the adventure, and most of the 
novelty, are lost when the railroad tunnel is used instead of 
the mountain zigzag, as I found on my second passage of 
the celebrated Mount Cenis, where a whole day's charming 
sight-seeing, of invigorating atmosphere, and glorious moun- 
tain views Was exchruged for an hour's dark transit in a 
close railway carriage. 

However, in the trip we were now about to take, post- 
carriages were the only conveyances. As these carriages 
can easily carry four persons, and as there were but two of 
us to go, I waited, and sought in the opposite hotel, "The 
Golden Sun," for companions to share the carriage and the 
expense of the trip ; but there were none there, and, at our 
own, two Americans and two English people went off in an 
opposite direction, while another English party, gentleman 
and wife, attended by their servant, although sitting near us 
at dinner, passing us daily in the hotel, and at places of 
interest in the town for more than a week since their arrival, 
had, with true British reserve, never addressed a word to 
us. Never been introduced, you see. Of course, one 
couldn't have the' audacity to address them proposing trav- 
elling companionship ! We asked the landlords to inform 



POST HORSES FOR ST. MORITZ. 839 

US of any traveller or travellers desiring to make the trip, 
but as usual they heard of no one. 

I found a jolly young Tyrolese, however, whom I had 
seen lounging round the stables, and contrived to learn from 
him that he wanted to get to the very next town I desired 
to reach. His post-chaise was a fine one, and his dapple 
grays sound and strong, his price some eight dollars less 
than mine hosts had indicated ; so I waited no longer, but 
closed with him, and ordered the landlord to fill out a writ- 
ten contract for the same for him to sign, in which was ex- 
pressed the time to be occupied, the stops to be made and 
where. I was somewhat startled when the post-driver came 
to sign his name — Franz Hell ; but his name was far from 
being indicative of his character. 

The British guest I observed at breakfast, on the morning 
of our departure, making the most ample preparations of cold 
fowl, sandwiches, and cold meat packed in a tin box, and 
overheard him observe that they must " provide against 
these beastly Tyrolean inns after leaving h'yar," — a warn- 
ing I took heed of myself; and, havir'^ in mind former ex- 
perience of acid wines, sour bread, and bad water, added 
some sandwiches and two or three bottles of claret to my 
own provision for the journey. 

Our carriage stood opposite the hotel, and the horses 
rattled their harness trappings, anxious to start, as we de- 
scended the staircase, and found our Englishman telling the 
landlord that it was an hour too early. 

"But this voiiure is for Monsieur," said the host, indicat- 
ing myself. 

"0, ah! beg pardon; but the fellow said it was a car- 
riage going to St. Moritz." 

" And I am going to St. Moritz," said I. 

" Really ! Most extraordinary thing! I've engaged car- 
riage for same route half an hour later." 

" Monsieur's carriage will be ready in half an hour," said 
the landlord, bowing. Wily host ; he had kept the fact that 



840 A MEMORABLE MOUNTAIN. 

both guests were going over the same route from each, and 
ourselves for a day or two looking for companions till at 
last each took separate conveyances. 

However, it is doubtful if the Englishman would have 
joined us ; but, as he found we were to precede him on the 
road, he politely requested us to order rooms for him after 
we had selected our own, and was, as all well-educated 
English gentlemen are, a most agreeable and courteous 
travelling companion and friend after the outer crust of 
reserve had been fairly broken. 

We left our clean and comfortable hotel, passed over the 
bridge above the rushing and roaring river Inn, and once 
more were on the full trot on the post-road on a fine sum- 
mer's morning. Away we rattle along past the shooting- 
ground, and leave the river at our left, but the valley and 
ravine gradually narrow, and, after a ride of half a dozen 
miles or so, we are pressed back towards the river again by 
the rising precipices, until at last the great perpendicular 
Martinswand, as it is called, pushes the road to the very 
bank. 

This Martinswand is one of the celebrities of the coun- 
try. It signifies " Martin's Wall," and is an almost perpen- 
dicular precipice eighteen hundred and thirty feet above 
the road, on which we stand to look at a sort of cave or 
crevice in it, which is over seven hundred feet above our 
heads. 

We can see a crucifix that is set up there opposite the 
hole in the wall, and the story is that the Emperor Maxi- 
milian, trying to descend, found himself at a point where he 
could neither advance nor retreat. He succeeded, however, 
in reaching this hole, or chasm. Here he clung between 
heaven and earth, as it were, and after a long time was able 
to make known to his people where he was, by writing on 
his tablet, which he bound to a stone with his gold chain 
and threw down to those on the road below. 

All, of course, was dismay and confusion. The priest 



A PERILOUS POSITION. 341 

was sent for from the neighboring town of Zirl, who was to 
come and offer prayers for succor, or imploi'e aid of the 
Virgin, or something of the kind. But, while the ecclesias- 
tic was getting on his vestments and arranging the necessary 
paraphernalia, an effoi-t of a more practical nature was in 
progi-ess, A party of miners had assembled with ropes at 
the top of the cliff, but they were almost as hopeless as the 
spectators at the base, for the monarch was over a thousand 
feet below them. But one of their number, stouter and 
bolder than the rest, contrived to reach him, and bore him 
up after he had been in his perilous plight fifty-two hours. 

The emperor was duly grateful. Pie caused the crevice 
that had sheltered him to be enlarged to a cell, and the 
miners to cut a path down to it for the use of those who 
should desire to make pious pilgrimages to the place, which 
is called the Max-Hohle, and a pension was settled upon 
his rescuer, Oswald Zips, of Zirl, which is said to be drawn 
by his descendants to this day. This incident in the 
emperor's life is said to have occurred on Easter Monday 
and the following day, in 1490, and is celebrated in Tyrolean 
ballard and story. 

The following is the somewhat literal translation of an 
extract from a popular ballad describing the king's danger- 
ous position. 

Here helped no spring, 

No eagle-swing, 

For under him lay the Martinswand, 

The steepest rock in all the land. 

A sound as of thxmder roared at his feet, 
Where a tumult of men surged below him so deep, 
Above them all his Highness stands — 
But not raised in homage over the lands. 

On an airy throne 

Max is left alone. 

Forsaken and small, he shuddering tliinks 

How to an object of pity he shrinks. 



342 KOUTE TO THE ENGADINE. 

We took our noon rest at Telfs, and then pushed on over 
a beautiful drive of alternate ascent and descent until we 
reached Imst, our stopping-place for the first night, a pretty 
Tyrolean town of two or three thousand inhabitants, but 
where we found at the tolerably comfortable inn that Tyro- 
lean-German was trumps and French at a discount ; but, 
thanks to the perfect knowledge of the former tongue by 
the wife of our English compagnon de voyage, as we now 
felt we might call him, our wants were made intelligible. 

From Imst we start off again over our romantic road, 
passing now and then crosses with rudely executed figures 
of the crucifixion by the roadside ; some of them mere hor- 
rible caricatures, or shrines with the Virgin and child, at 
which little offerings of flowers or tinsel ornaments had 
been made. We reach Prutz, a little village in a flat, open 
space, and which I chiefly remember for its bad inn and 
insufficient lunch, which we were obliged to eke out from 
the supplies brought with us from Innspruck, We rattled 
away from here with good will, following the course of the 
river Inn, and now having those glorious views of mountains, 
distant and near, that are the charm of Alpine journeys. 
After passing through the little village Pfunds, and viewing 
the afternoon sun sparkling upon the snow-caps of the dis- 
tant CEtzthal Mountains, and clattering over a wooden 
bridge beneath which the Inn rushes with all the force of an 
Alpine torrent that it is, we begin the grand ascent of the 
Finstermiinz Pass. 

This is another one of those splendid specimens of en- 
gineering and road-building that excites the traveller's ad- 
miration. The road is cut through solid rock, high above 
the back of the river ; great tunnels pierced through the 
rock and zigzags carry you up, up, \vhile the roaring tor- 
rent rushes below, or you pass between narrow walls of 
dark crags rising high on either side to emerge and catch 
delightful views of the valley, as your carriage winds slowly 
up the ascent over the smooth, well-built road, the driver 



THE FINSTERMtiNZ PASS. 343 

on foot cheering liis team and singing a Tyrolean song ; his 
peaked hat decorated, as I notice is a fashion of the Tyro- 
lese, and one wliich travellers readily fall into, with a sprig 
of Alpenrosen or mountain wild-flowers. 

Great gorges of wild, jagged rocks are in every variety 
of picturesque confusion ; waterfalls leaping from the moun- 
tain side rush madly down to swell the river below ; great 
slaty crags, inky as darkness itself, jut out black and terri- 
ble, and distant views of green hillsides, with the slanting 
afternoon sun resting upon them, and at the same time 
touching the patches of snow on the distant peaks, — all 
form one of those charming Alpine pictures that are long 
embalmed in the memories of those that have looked upon 
them. 

Up we go through this cleft in the mountains, and halt, 
on the Fourth of July, for our late dinner and second night's 
rest, upon a rocky plateau six hundred feet above the river, 
at an inn known as the Inn of the Iloch Finstermunz, a well- 
built, well-furnished, and pretty little inn ; but at the time 
of our visit, under a financial cloud, owing to questionable 
transactions of a former landlord, who had absconded. The 
inn was now thrown open to catch what customers it might, 
and would accommodate but a dozen or so guests at most. 

On this particular occasion, it being the national anniver- 
sary of our country, we commenced celebrating by a patri- 
otic entry upon the travellers' register. The two best suites 
of rooms were secured for ourselves and our English friends, 
we four being the only guests that day in the house ; they 
consisted of two tolerably sized sleeping-apartments, both 
opening into a small dining-room, the windows of which 
commanded a superb view of the wild, romantic gorge and 
valley beneath, and a portion of the narrow string-like line 
of road we were to ride over on the morrow. 

What would we have for dinner ? 

" Everything — the best in the house." 

They had " chops, potatoes, bread, tea, eggs, milk; Mon- 
sieur should have all." 



344 " THE DAT WE CELEBRATE " IK THE ALPS. 

So the dinner was ordered, and our English friend's car- 
riage, but a short distance behind us, rolled up to the door 
while it was in preparation. 

We both retired to cleanse ourselves from the stains and 
dust of travel, and finally, at the host's summons, gathered 
at the festive board. And such a dinner ! I have endured 
a great many at public celebrations in my own country 
where the venerable fowls, saw-dusty Washington pie, and 
cinnamon-flavored ice-cream made one dread " the dtxj we 
celebrate," but they must yield the palm to this banquet, 
three thousand feet above the sea-level. The chops, so 
called, might as well have been sole-leather, as far as any 
impression could be made upon them ; the fried potatoes 
were saturated with garlic-flavored fat, the bread dark, hard, 
and sour, the tea vile. The banquet was sent to the pos- 
tilions, and a dozen boiled eggs ordered, — ■ they could get 
no grease or garlic inside their shells. The last of the Eng- 
lishman's lunch stores were paraded, and my own last bottle 
of claret; the reader may be assured that no fragments were 
left of that feast. 

At the dessert of dry biscuit and oranges, the American 
gave the first regular toast of the occasion, " The Queen." 
This was drank standing by the entire company. The next 
regular toast, " The President of the United States," was 
given by the Englishman, and received in like manner. The 
American then (as all Americans do) made a speech suitable 
to the occasion, which was frequently interrupted by ap- 
plause and cries of " hear," " hear " from the English por- 
tion of the audience, and concluded with the strikingly 
original toast of " The Day we Celebrate," to which was 
added, " Peace and Fraternity between Great Britain and 
the United States," After the applause had subsided, the 
representative of Great Britain rose, and was received with 
great enthusiasm, especially as he announced that his ser- 
vant had discovered in his travelling hamper a can of con- 
densed coffee and a box of sardines. The speech that 



HOCH FINSTERMtiNZ. 345 

followed contained the most cordial expressions towards 
the United States, and concluded with the sentiment, "The 
Independent United States, may they endui-e as long as civil- 
ized man walks the face of the earth." 

Other patriotic speeches were made, and the national 
songs of both countries given, and the company separated 
at an early hour, half past eight. Owing to the general 
fatigue of all parties concerned, further celebration was dis- 
pensed with, and it was found on retiring that, though the 
viands were bad, the beds were not, and a refreshing night's 
rest was enjoyed in the pure, cool atmosphere and quiet of 
this mountain region. 

The sun rises early when you lodge high up in the moun- 
tains, and it is a grand sight to see him rise, sending the 
wreaths of mist whirling up hillsides and ravines, his rays 
sparkling upon the edges of ragged cliffs ere he mounts 
above their rocky screens, and at last shooting his gleam- 
ing arrows of light right down into the dark gorge, and 
turning the spray of the mountain torrent into diamond 
dust. The morning air is cool and sharp, though it is July, 
as we walk out from the hotel and look from the little rocky 
platform upon which it stands far down into the deep ravine 
beneath us. Five or six hundred feet below where we stood, 
ran our old friend the river Inn, forcing his way through the 
narrow cleft in the mountains ; across the stream was a little 
wooden bridge, with a stone tower on the opposite side, and 
on the side towards us was a little group of three houses, 
a little church, and a mill. Along the banks of the river 
we could trace the windings of the old road, and from our 
hotel-door, stretching to the left, the new one. 

We were agreeably surprised in the morning by an im- 
proved bill of fare at breakfast, the parties in charge of the 
house and the Englishman's postilion having been on a 
foraging excursion during the night. An improvement in 
the way of fresh milk, eggs, and sweeter bread, was wel- 
comed with sharpened appetites. 



346 WONDEES OF AN ALPINE PASS. 

Once more we were off. The road was now a succession 
of engineering wonders — beautiful views and grand moun- 
tain scener}'^ that I have so frequently described. Tunnels 
ran through solid rock, and zigzags along the edges of preci- 
pices ; profound gorges fall away deep, dark, and cavern- 
ous, and the trees beneath are diminished into shrubs by 
the distance, while the rough aspect of the rocks becomes 
softened from the same cause into picturesque groupings. 
The narrow defiles and road cut out from the edge of the 
rock, tunnels, and avalanche galleries, and the frequency of 
the dark, slate-like rocks, reminds one of the Via Mala Pass. 

Coming through the Tyrol, one cannot help noticing what 
a love the people have for plants. In houses a little better 
than hovels, where the women were barefooted, and the chil- 
dren's faces seemed not to have been on visiting acquaint- 
ance with soap and water for a fortnight, a neat little shelf 
would be seen placed at the window, which would be filled 
with several varieties of geraniums, double clove-pinks, and 
other plants that must have been rare in this locality, while 
in the better class of houses the little garden would be 
tastefully arranged, and cloth-of-gold roses, rose peonies, 
and damask roses bloomed in profusion. 

Our ride, after leaving the Finstermtiuz Inn, carried us 
past a beautiful waterfall, and soon after we came to the 
fortifications that guarded the entrance into Switzerland. 
The narrow road was spanned, or rather commanded, by a 
stone fort as solid as if hewn out of its rocky walls — as a 
portion of it is. The grim cannon pointed down directly at 
us, and indeed it seems as if a single discharge would have 
swept every square inch of the road as we mounted towards 
their muzzles, and passed through the guarded gateway from 
Tyrol into Switzerland. A sharp turn, a ride across a com- 
paratively flat piece of country, and then we begin a descent 
of zigzags till we reach Martinsbruck, where we halt for 
rest. 

As the traveller advances into the upper Engadine valley, 



PICTURESQUE SCENERY. 347 

he cannot but be struck by the marked improvement in the 
appearance of the people the moment the Protestant and 
Komansch succeed the Roman Catholic villages. The rude 
crosses and roadside shrines in glaring colors, the ragged 
people and the beggars, are succeeded by a thriftier, bettor 
clad, and moi-e intelligent-looking community. The differ- 
ence and the change after passing from the boundary of the 
Tyrol will be noted at almost every village the traveller 
passes. 

We go through Strada, with its little stone houses, with 
deep-set windows, and finally reach a place called Remus, 
where a bridge of sixty-six feet span leaps a tremendous 
gorge, at the bottom of which roars in feathery foam a rush- 
ing torrent, and round and about is every variety of wild 
and picturesque scenery, including the remains of an old 
feudal castle perched high above us in its rocky eyrie. We 
halted here, and as usual did homage to nature in our admi- 
ration of " cloud-capped towers," rugged crags, and light 
and shade of sunrays and shadow that made portions of the 
view look like a great picture, as indeed it was, and none 
but God can paint such. 

On through Schuls, a lively little village with very neat- 
looking houses; round and about it there seemed to be some 
cultivated patches, looking green and flourishing on the hill- 
side in the afternoon sun, with the men and women busy at 
work in them ; and now we are driving down into a sort of 
sheltered valley which really has quite a home-like appear- 
ance, for all along the hillsides rise veritable boarding-houses, 
very like our own American ones, or summer hotels at pop- 
ular resorts. We meet people out riding on horseback or 
in carriages in charming Parisian-got-up costumes for a 
watering place ; cultivated fields, well-kept gardens gay 
with flowers, a pretty bridge spanning the river, and a 
large, well-built, modern hotel, with beautifully laid-out 
grounds, as our driver starts up his horses into a brisk 
trot ; and, with the usual flourish and fusillade of whip- 



348 TARASP SPEINGS. 

snapping, brings us up at the entrance of the Kurhaus, or 
hotel at Tarasp, M'^here we are to pass the second night of 
our journey. 

This hotel was indeed a charming contrast with the one 
of the evening previous. It has been established at this 
point, on the banks of the river, near a mineral spring which 
is said to possess certain medicinal virtues; and arriving as 
we did in the height of the season, when several hundred 
guests were present, we were fortunate in obtaining excel- 
lent rooms for the night. The scenery is charming about 
here, the hotel, at the time we visited it, excellently kept, 
except, if it be an exception, on calling for butter at the 
great table d'hote at tea, we were told that it was not per- 
mitted, this being a Kurhaus for parties being treated for 
their health. Three kinds of preserved fruit, excellent 
bread and honey, and cold meat, were allowed, and I don't 
know how many other good things, but butter and pastry 
were forbidden, and could not be bribed or begged from the 
servants. 

We left the elegant hotel of the Tarasp Springs behind us 
as we proceeded on our journey, a charming drive, with 
beautiful Alpine scenery all about us, and the rushing river 
Inn still our companion. We soon note a better class of 
people and a better class of buildings in the villages, and 
also a diflFerent kind of language from what wo have en- 
countered before, for we are passing through the country 
of the descendants of the Romans, who fled here 581 b. c. 
to escape from the Gauls, and who were the first inhabi- 
tants of the Engadine Valley, their language, the Romansch, 
a queer sort of dialect. The beggars, squalid huts, and 
numerous praying stations and roadside crucifixes are left 
behind, and at each village, beside the chalets of the poorer 
class, are generally some two or three big (for these lati- 
tudes) Swiss houses, strongly built of stone, somewhat after 
the pattern of their humbler neighbors, but with pretentious 
entrance, large garden brilliant with flowers, and inner bal- 



THE ENGADINE VALLEY. 349 

cony of carved wood brightly painted ; cleanliness, white- 
wash, and paint, their summer dress, making them conspic- 
uous. 

These are mainly residences of those who have returned 
to their native villages with small fortunes made as keepers 
of hotels, pastry cooks, waiters, confectioners, glass-blowers, 
and followers of other occupations in the continental cities, 
the Engadine Valley being noted for the number that it 
sends out that take up with these occupations, and who 
possess so strong a love for their native villages, notwith- 
standing the inhospitality of the climate, which gives scarce- 
ly' more than three months of mild weather, that they return 
thither to enjoy their prosperity. 

Twisting in and out the mountain roads, we pass the vil- 
lage of Ardetz, which is said to have been founded by the 
ancient Etruscans. The valley here is picturesque and 
beautiful, with its green slope down to the river veined 
with sparkling streams gliding down its side, while upon the 
heights, here and there, are the shattered walls or solitary 
tower of ruined old castles. High above pleasant green 
slopes on one side of the valley, rise snow-capped mountains, 
and dark, sombre forests clothe the heights of the other. We 
reach the little village of Lavin, a place that had recently 
suffered from a fire, but a Protestant and apparently thrifty 
place, which leaving behind we again meet the river Inn, 
have a beautiful drive through a pine-clad valley, and enter 
Zernetz, which presented a melancholy spectacle indeed, the 
whole village, with the exception of the church and two 
houses, being in ruins, having been destroyed by fire a few 
months previous, — a severe blow to the inhabitants, and ex- 
citing the liveliest sympathy in their behalf, contributions 
for them being taken up in England. The church, which 
was fortunately preserved, was built in 1623. 

We rode through the silent and deserted little streets of 
shattered stone houses blackened with fire, and were stared 
at curiously by the inhabitants of the only two remaining 



350 SAMADEN. 

ones as we passed them, and pushed on till we reached 
Samaden, the wealthiest town in the district ; and here many 
of the retired innkeepers and pastry cooks before men- 
tioned have built their pi'etty chalets. The street is well 
laid out ; there are a banker, post-oflSce, and telegraph office, 
and two large hotels. The Bernina Ilof was a large and 
splendid house, filled with two or three hundred guests. It 
was kept as well as our great mountain and seaside resorts. 
Its balconies, upon which sat ladies and gentlemen at little 
tables, sipping their coffee after dinner, command a magnifi- 
cent panorama, the Berniner Alps, their cold glaciers and 
sparkling snow-peaks soaring away up into the blue sky be- 
yond the patch of green valley that lies between. All around 
Samaden is beautiful scenery and pleasant drives. Many 
of the houses about here have inscriptions in a curious mix- 
ture of Romansch and French upon them, generally brief 
extracts from Scripture. I copied one from a little church 
in a village between Samaden and St. Moritz, which read, 
" A DiEU SuLET Gloria Ed Onur," signifying, doubtless, 
To God alone is Glory and Praise. 

The little einspdnner — a calash or chaise — carrying two 
beside the driver, who is perched on in front, will carry you 
to Pontresina, St. Moritz, and other villages in the neigh- 
borhood, and to numerous romantic spots and stretches of 
scenery, while all around the vicinity in the summer season 
of the year the fields and hillsides are rich in the bright and 
curious flora of the Alps, afibrding a most interesting study 
for the botanist. 

While our horses were resting here at Samaden, we 
enjoyed the unexpected pleasure of an interview with the 
Danish author, Hans Christian Andersen. The good-natured 
fairy story-teller, who was then sojourning at the hotel, on 
hearing that two Americans that had read his books would 
like to see him, came to us with extended hands of welcome, 
though just returned from a fatiguing excursion to the Mor- 
teratsch glacier. He had but recently returned from Italy, 



HAi^S CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. 351 

where he had been for his health, and had been staying 
here for a week's rest ere returning to Copenhagen. He 
was tall, thin, even attenuated in figure, his head small, 
but forehead high, which was the only point of beauty in 
his face, his nose being large and prominent, cheek-bones 
very distinct, and his gray eyes small, but they sparkled 
with a pleasant smile which wreathed his lips ; and his sim- 
ple manner pleased as a child to be praised, and his gentle 
tones made it easy to see why he was personally so prime a 
favorite with young people. He was pale, and appeared 
exceedingly feeble in health. 

He was delighted as a child when told that his stories 
were read and admired by the children in America, and in- 
quired if we had any storks there, and wondered how the 
children could understand some of his stories if they were 
not familiar with storks, as the boys and girls of Denmark, 
but that he had written some stories expressly for the chil- 
dren of America. 

"Ah," said he with a sigh, "were I not so nearly done 
with life, I should like to see America." 

I assured him he would meet a cordial welcome, especially 
fi'om the little people. 

" Give my love to them all," said he, "and tell them I 
enjoy telling them fairy stories ; and stay, here is a little me- 
mento of our interview which you may show the children in 
Andersen's own handwriting ; " and he wrote in Danish a 
sentence, beneath which he also wrote its English transla- 
tion, — 

"Life is the most beautiful fairy tale. 

Hans Christian Andersen." 

And then bade us good-bye. 

Poor Andersen — but I will not say poor, either, for he 
was rich in the affection of all classes in his native land, as 
well as elsewhere, where his writings have been read. His 
death took place at Copenhagen two years after I saw him, 
and at his funeral the affection of all classes was shown by 



352 ST. MOBITZ. 

the immense gathering. The royal family were there, and 
the poor were present, and deputations from all parts of Den- 
mark and other countries, and, as one writer expresses it, 
many persons were as much taken by surprise as they 
would have been if it had been reported that ^sop had 
died. 

Away off at the left, as we leave Samaden, rises the high 
peak of Piz Roseg, whose icy point pierces the clouds 
twelve thousand feet above the sea-level, and you catch 
views of the Piz Bernina, twelve thousand five hundred feet, 
the highest peak of the Bernina chain. Bnt twilight is ap- 
proaching, the air chill, though in July, as we roll through 
two little villages close together in the valley after leaving 
Samaden and begin to wind up the hillside towards our point 
of destination. As we reach a bend in the road before en- 
tering a wood, the driver halts, and we look back to have a 
charming view of the valley of the Inn through which we 
have passed since leaving Zernetz. The road twists and 
winds about, and strings the two little villages of Cresta and 
Celerina, scarce a mile below us, upon its thread ; five miles 
further on is Samaden, and Zernetz is at the end of the 
straight-line view, which is closed by a lofty mountain 
which rises behind it. 

Up we mount, and with the setting sun enter the village 
of St. Moritz, nearly six thousand feet above the sea-level, 
a place which is said to enjoy nine months of winter and 
three of cool weather. The season for visitors is from the 
middle of June to the middle of September, and we had ar- 
rived at the height of it, so we were passed by parties who 
had been out to ride, to walk, and to ramble, returning 
homewards : Englishmen, with veil-wreathed hats and alpen- 
stocks, young fellows with stout shoes and knickex'bocker 
suits, who also have been climbing the neighboring moun- 
tains, and others whose dust-covered clothes and browned 
faces told of pedestrian excursions. 

Every now and then an einspdnner, reminding one of the 



A FASHIONABLE RESORT. 353 

Canada caleclic or Cuban volanto, dashed past with its sturdy 
h'ttlo horsG, and pair of passengers behind, and we met 
ruddy-faced English girls in plain short merino dresses, 
broad hats and stout shoes, returning from their rambles. 
Evidently we were going to a popular resort if it was high 
up in the Swiss mountains ; and so it proved, for the little 
village, which will number scarce four hundred of its own 
inhabitants, and not a quarter of that out of season, -had now 
two or three thousand from various parts of the Continent, 
drawn thither for various reasons, chief among which might 
be mentioned that the mineral springs here are pronounced 
the best of their kind in Europe. They are a powerful 
chalybeate, strongly impregnated with carbonic acid and 
alkaline salts, and very efficacious for scrofulous affections, 
diseases of the stomach, and impaired digestion. This effi- 
cacy brings of course many exhausted fast livers here for 
the waters, and, there being among them quite a sprinkling 
of titled ones, the place is the fashion. Moreover, it is com- 
paratively a new place, or was at the time of the author's 
visit, the gambling-houses of Baden-Baden having been 
closed, and pleasure-seekers hungering for a new sensation 
were making this the fashionable watering place ; and a de- 
lightful and comfortable one it is during the hot season, to 
say nothing of the waters, the beneficial effects of which 
are indisputable. 

We had directed our driver, on arrival at St. Moritz, to 
carry us to the grand hotel, the Kurhaus, the fashionable 
resort, built over the springs, about a mile beyond and be- 
loAV the village itself ; and, having sent forward despatches 
two days in advance, looked forward confidently to a com- 
fortable rest in comfortable rooms at the end of our four 
days' journey. So we rolled by " Badrutt's," or Engadine 
Culm, a big, square hotel, where the Countess of Dudley was 
staying, and groups on the space in front were looking down 
upon ourselves and other road-passers ; and then we began 
to wind through the little narrow zigzag street of the town 
23 



354 CROWDED OUT. 

(built so as to shelter against the fierce winds of fall and 
winter) and past several pretty pensions or boarding- 
houses, to the great house which we could see resting in the 
valley below. The sun was setting behind the mountains, 
and the numerous guests thronging in to a late dinner, or 
early tea, as our dust-covered vehicle whirled thi'ough the 
ornamental driveway of the grounds and drew up at the 
principal entrance. 

Here I descended, and was met at the threshold by the 
host. 

Did Monsieur desire apartments ? 

Certainly he did, — his card, (presenting itj) he had 
envoyed un message two days ago. 

The host shrugged his shoulders ; he had not an empty 
closet in the house. 

" What, nothing ? " and I took out a gold Napoleon in 
my hand. 

The Frenchman's eyes glistened. 

" Ah, pardon, Monsieur, mats vraiment," he had nothing, 
the house was full, and he rattled off with such volubility 
and with so many shrugs and deprecatory gestures, that we 
were glad when the clerk, who spoke English, put in an ap- 
pearance. 

In response to our assertion that we had telegraphed, he 
asked me to look in at the telegraph bureau, near which I 
was standing, and there, at the side of the instrument, were 
a score of messages beside my own — " and all these, re- 
ceived before Monsieur's, must be disappointed." 

It was true ; the place was crammed, and we were late 
comers, and must find quarters elsewhere. 

The great Kurhaus had been enlarged the last season, so 
that at the time of our arrival it held more than five hun- 
dred guests, but the new accommodations were all taken ; 
so we must turn and climb the hill that we had just descended, 
back to the village with our tired horses, and seek accom- 
modations where we could find them. 



A MINIATUKE HOTEL. 355 

The English-speaking clerk was good enough to give us 
a hint, which we were not slow to act upon, which was to 
go to the Pension Suisse, and take the best engaged rooms 
that were not yet occupied, " agreeing " to vacate at " im- 
mediate notice " in case of arrival of parties who had en- 
gaged them. 

The Pension Suisse was a neat little hotel in the village ; 
the host had no rooms in the house itself, hut, sure enough, 
in its dependency, the P^lugi-Engelberg directly across a 
roadway, were two nice rooms, saloon and sleeping apart- 
ment, which were reserved for some distinguished party, 
and if Monsieur would take them for a week and submit to 
be moved in case my Lord and Lady Nozoo should arrive, 
then he could be accommodated. 

Monsieur and madame; fatigued and dust-covered with 
four days of post travel, were but too happy to obtain such 
comfortable accommodations as these proved to be. The 
little Pension Suisse contained about twenty rooms, was 
beautifully clean and well kept ; the reputation that the En- 
gadine has of furnishing pastry cooks, waiters, confectioners, 
cafe managers, &c., for the Continent, was borne out by the 
cuisine here and a specimen of a tiny confectioner's shop un- 
der the hotel, in which ban^ly half a dozen customers could 
get in at once, but where the Veclairs, cream cakes, bon- 
bons, and pastry were not excelled by the best in Paris and 
Vieima. 

The dining-room, with its table d'hote and little tables for 
dinner d la carte, overlooked the quaint little zigzag Swiss 
street, up and down which went goats and cows and dili- 
gence, einspdnners, Tyroleans, and tourists, a curious med- 
ley, during early hours of morning and evening. 

Our lodgings were in the Dependence, a solid stone man- 
sion of two stories in height, situated upon the verge of the 
hillside at the end of the village nearest the Kurhaus, and 
commanding a wild and romantic Tyrolean view. First, 
sloping downward from beneath our windows, extended a 



356 DELIGHTFUL QUARTERS. 

t 

bank of verdure, crowded with fragrant wild-flowers; be- 
yond lay a placid lake of emerald green, about two miles in 
length by a mile in width, calm as a mirror, and reflecting 
the lofty peak that seemed to rise from its opposite shore 
and pierce the sky ten thousand feet above, but which was 
really miles beyond its verge. The mountains opposite 
were beautifully green, with verdure at their base ; then 
above, as it gradually disappeared, there came into view the 
numberless silvery and flashing, ribbon-like streams and cas- 
cades that flowed downwards from the glaciers and vast 
snow-robe that enveloped the whole range of lofty peaks 
high above and before us. The lofty mountains and their 
snow crown are mirrored in the lake below them by day ; 
at early morn the sunrise upon their glittering heads is a 
glorious sight ; and at raoonrise, with the stars shining in 
the deep blue of the heavens, the moonbeams bring them 
out with a strange, weird effect of ghastly white. 

Far beyond us, some two hundred feet below the level of 
the plateau on which our little hotel rests, at the end of the 
deep, emerald green of the lake, and in a sort of flat, scooped- 
out valley, which would be close and hot, if there could be 
such a thing in this altitude, rests the great hotel, a huge, 
white structure, with wings and L's, — a village in itself, — 
which, seen with its glittering lights across the lake at night, 
reminds one of a New-England cotton factory. This beau- 
tiful lake at the mountain-base, — a natural Alpine mirror, 
and doubtless principally an accumulation of glacier-water, — 
nevertheless furnishes delicious trout, which often grace our 
breakfast-table. 

Eound and about its margin Tyrolean washer-women 
gather, kneeling on their little board platforms, and washing 
in the cold water all day long, keeping up a healthy circula- 
tion of the blood by the vigorous manner in which they beat 
and assault the clothes under ablution. At one end, towards 
the village, the waters of the lake tumble over in a series 
of pretty cascades, forming a portion of the source of the 



SCENES AT THE SPRINGS. 357 

river Inn ; and on the romantic wooded banks here, the de- 
vious walks, sliaded by forest-trees, form a most enchanting 
lovers' promenade. 

There are two winding roads down to the Kurhaus, — the 
one near the lake, which carries you through a newly started 
village (by this time possibly completed) of carpenters and 
masons, erecting another hotel, handsomely built of stone, 
(if about one hundred and fifty rooms, fronting the lake, and 
also several lesser buildings and dependencies, showing the 
nipidity with which St. Moritz has recently grown into pub- 
lic favor. The other, or upper road, is less steep and less 
direct, and that generally taken by the diligence and other 
vehicles, and leads past a tiny English church, that might 
hold, possibly, a congregation of seventj^-five persons. 

The extended arms of the hotel embrace a handsomely 
laid-out park, and walks in front of it ; but in the middle of 
the day in July, when the sun boats down fiercely, one is' 
glad to get into the friendly shade of the house or bath- 
room conndors. A long, covered passage, or promenade, 
leads from the hotel to the springs, or, as the English al- 
ways unpoetically designate the place, " the pump-room," 
where the water is served, morning, noon, and evening, to 
drinkers. There is an array of mugs here in their racks, 
labelled like those in an American barber's shop ; tumblers 
and glasses, some with crests and initials, also decanters and 
bottles belonging to the drinkers, who come down in force 
in the morning when the band plays, and fill the broad hall 
that surrounds the springs, as they promenade, glass in 
hand, clad in elegant neglige morning costume, listen to the 
music, and chat with each other. 

The scene then is a gay one : ladies in ravishing cos- 
tumes, in delicate morning hats and dainty slippers, some 
pale-faced and thin, others rosy and healthy ; old dowagers, 
mere shadows in muslin and diamonds, here in the vain hope 
that they may find in this the fountain of youth they have 
vainly sought all over the Continent ; the really ill, with 



358 A STUDY OF CHARACTERS. 

marks of suffering in their worn faces and exhausted 
frames ; men in velvet morning dressing-suits, slippers, and 
embroidered caps, to whom a three months' banishment 
from fast life and the same amount of hard labor and plain 
food would brin-g more health tnan any spring-water in ex- 
istence ; exhausted old titled roues, with eye-glasses, and in 
costumes twenty years too young for them, some hobbling 
painfully along by the aid of a cane, and others leaning 
upon the arm of a liveried valet; overfed Englishmen or 
Germans under diet to get their bursting skins down to rea- 
sonable dimensions, and turgid livers into decent working 
order ; fat old dowagers sitting in the window recesses, 
holding their glasses of water suspended beneath their lips, 
as they gossip over it with each other, as at a tea-drinking. 

Then there were scores of young people and young lov- 
ers, — some who had come because it was then a new place, 
'and the fashion ; others who had come down with uncle 
Joe, who wanted to try the water a week or two for his 
gout ; and the two sisters. Blonde and Brunette, who had 
come with mother for her neuralgia ; and the others who 
had come with their father, an old Indian oflBcer, whose yel- 
low visage told of curry-powder and a liver that bothered 
him. There was the usual sprinkling of titled individuals, 
and, as is usual in such places, those making the greatest 
parade were likely to be the most impecunious. 

The band played, and the groups sauntered about : here 
a pair was followed by a liveried servant to replenish or take 
the cup when emptied ; others repaired to the basin of hot 
water to heat their draughts to a certain temperature ; and 
others, having drank, lounged round the long bazaar of a 
dozen stalls, or ornamented booths, where Swiss girls sold 
carved wood-work, trinkets, jewelry, laces, wrought hand- 
kerchiefs and embroidery, for which the neighboring country 
is celebrated ; crystals, photographs, pictures, glass-work, 
and other attractive fancy goods. 

There are fifty or sixty bath-rooms, where those who de- 



IMPROVING AN OPPORTUNITY. 359 

sire to be treated in that manner, have opportunity to 
make use of the waters. A young English physician, who 
came up here without practice for a summer excursion a 
few years siuce^ before the place was so much frequented, 
was interested in an analj^sis of the waters, and, on his re- 
turn to London, wrote a pamphlet, or book, upon the sub- 
ject. It was favorably commented upon ; and the next 
season, when he went for his succeeding summer vacation, 
his pamphlet was placed on the bookstall here, it being the 
only description of the springs and their properties, the 
guide-books hardly mentioning them. Visitors bought it ; 
and finally, an old lady, being ill, sent for him, was re- 
lieved, praised his treatment, and it came to be understood 
that the St. Moritz waters should be drank according to 
medical advice. The young phj^sician managed his business 
well, enlarged his pamphlet into a book, took rooms eti suite, 
and established himself at the Kurhaus as the principal phy- 
sician, numbering his patients by hundreds, and, taking the 
tide at fiood, it is rapidly leading him on to fortune. 

There are billiard and reading rooms attached to the ho- 
tel, for those who stay indoors, while, outside, the numerous 
rides and rambles in easy reach render the place particu- 
larl}' attractive. There is a beautiful walk, which can be 
accomplished in about an hour, through the neighboring 
forest to a high point that commands a view of great beauty, 
including several mountain lakes ; excursions to the neigh- 
boring villages, valleys, passes, and glaciers can be made 
fi'om here ; an ascent of the Piz Nair, an elevation of 
about nine thousand three hundred feet, which is not very 
diflBcult, and can be accomplished in about three hours from 
St. Moritz, and from which a superb view of the snow- 
capped Bernina chain may be had. 

One of the pleasantest of these excursions is that to the 
neighboring village of Pontreseina and thence to Morte- 
ratsch Glacier. In an einspanner, myself and companion 
rode a delightful drive to Ponti'eseina. It was about the 



360 A BOMANTIC PaDE. 

middle of July, the temperature being that of an English 
May morning, or the early June of New England. What 
harvest there is here in the Engadine is late, and it had 
not yet been gathered in ; the fields were a perfect wealth 
of wild flowers, the air heavy with their perfume, and, as we 
came to the village itself, after a ride of about five miles, 
the gardens of the people were rich in flowers of every 
hue. Indeed, the place might be said to be noted for 
the floral taste of its inhabitants ; and this, let it be remem- 
bered, in a place about six thousand feet above the sea-level, — 
a higher altitude than Mt. Rhigi, described in the author's 
former work, and in a locality where grass is of that value 
that dried moss is used as the bedding for cattle. 

At Pontreseina we pulled up for a brief rest at the Roseg 
Hotel, and also to enjoy from its balconies a panoramic sight 
of the Roseg Mountain and its great glacier, which is spread 
out in full view here (even as the Jungfrau is before the win- 
dows of the Hotel Victoria, at Interlaken), for it is but three 
miles distant ; and here in this village gather those enthu- 
siastic tourists who are so fond of glacier excursions and 
mountain-climbs, for there is an abundant opportunity in 
the vicinity to enjoy them without any great risk. 

After enjoying our mountain view of Roseg and Bernina 
and other peaks and points, and the broad expanse of snow 
and ice elevated far above us in the blue sky, like a great, 
white-covered altar to the Most High, we left the village 
behind us, coming to a most beautiful waterfall at the road- 
side, — a tumbling, rattling cascade, bursting out of the 
Languard valley, white with foam-wreaths, — a genuine Al- 
pine torrent, a view for a painter, having the conventional, 
picturesque old saw-mill and distant Swiss chalet, and two 
peasant figures in red dresses and blue yarn stockings, 
in the foreground. Near here the Bernina Pass begins, and 
winds about its course of ascent above us: we are still in 
the midst of romantic Alpine scenery ; for, turn which way 
one will, the lofty peaks, picturesque crags, or wooded 



BERNINA BROOK. 361 

heights meet the view, and the air is filled with the rush of 
brawling brooks. 

We turn off from the main road, ride through some 
rough laud, as far as passable for our vehicle, and halt ; 
the driver is to wait till our return, as we proceed over the 
little foot-path to visit without a guide the Berniua Brook 
and the glacier. We plod along some distance, and won- 
der whether we are right or wrong, and with that uncer- 
tain feeling of what if we were to lose our way in this wild 
mountain region of a foreign country ; but the path is well 
worn, though the country is wild and picturesque. We 
round a turn in the path, and in a nook find a rough little 
chalet of two rooms, one of which answered as a refreslunont 
room for the sale of a very limited stock of refreshments, — 
a few bottles of claret, the inevitable show-card with the 
pink, triangular trade-mark of Bass & Co., announcing pale 
ale of their brewing, and a few biscuits. Attached was a 
little wooden pagoda and a sort of garden, with two or 
three tables for the use of customers. 

The only occupants of the place were a woman and a little 
child ; and in answer to our signs, the former, with smiles 
and pantomime, indicated to us to go on, and went forward 
herself to open a sort of gateway to the right path, placed 
there evidently for a "slight fee, which she smilingly and 
gratefully received. We soon reached a rustic bridge, in a 
narrow, rocky gorge, scarce twenty feet in width : from 
high above, down the irregular chasm over the jagged 
rocks, leaps and rushes, tumbles and roars, the waterfall. 
It is dark, shady, and cool here, although mid-day, and the 
showers of mist fly into our faces, 

From the side of the bridge we observe a foot-path, steep, 
to be sure, but worn by climbing feet ; we catch at shrubs 
and trees, and ascend to see the source of our glorious 
waterfall, and at last reach the summit, when, lo ! here 
comes down another still above us, even more magnificent, 
precipitating its flood, with the roar of a true torrent, into 



862 THE MOETERATSCH GLACIER. 

a g-reat rocky basin, whose overflow is the fall below us. A 
rest here, and enjoyment of a look-up at this superb cascade 
and down at the one left, we take our mountain-path again, 
and still higher encounter the third waterfall of still differ- 
ent and equally romantic and picturesque description. Yet 
higher, and we emerge from among the trees upon the rocky 
hillside, which is red with huge bushes of Alpenrosen, and 
rich in sweet-smelling purple and white flowers. The tor- 
rent, still some eighteen or twenty feet in width, as we fol- 
low it, is a succession of picturesque bends, rapids, cascades, 
and waterfalls over huge masses of rock, — a charmingly 
romantic place, — a Tyrolean edition of Trenton Falls in 
New York, except that it may be followed more easily, and 
the distant surroundings are more grand. 

This beautiful Bernina Brook, as it is called, we followed 
up to the road or Bernina Pass, enjoying the numerous cas- 
cades, windings, and glorious waterfalls. Descending, we 
resumed our foot-path once more, meeting and crossing the 
water from the glacier towards which we were advancing. 

Here it was at last. 

We come first to a bi'oad expanse of loose rocks, stones, 
and rocky shingle, in the centre of which rushed along the 
melted, bluish-gray glacier water from the great mass that 
had crept slowly forward to the vallqy. We picked our 
way up to its very base, a great wall of a mixture of ice 
and sand, gravel and stones, sixty feet high : the chill of 
its shade was sensibly felt after the heat of our pedestrian 
excursion. The dirty gray of the exterior of a large por- 
tion of the end of glacier which may be approached thus, is 
unlike its unsoiled purity thousands of feet above. But, ap- 
proaching to the point from which poured forth the melted 
torrent that went forward as a contribution to the river Inn, 
we could see within the well-known caverns of clear blue, 
pitiless ice, seamed with clean cuts, and fractures, bluish 
green as bottle-glass, and chill as the frozen ocean. 

By the side-path we climbed up, and went far enough to 



BEST AND REFRESHMENT. 363 

say that we had stood upon the Morteratsch glacier, and 
had pelted one another with snowballs gathered at its verge 
in July ; but the fatigue of the ascent, as well as the great 
yawning fissures that seamed the surface, deterred us from 
any excursion upon it, especially as we were without a guide 
to direct our footsteps. 

It is a fact that, rapidly as one may come down hill on 
these Alpine excursions, he is pretty apt to discover that he 
needs some strength for descent as well as ascending, and 
also that in most cases very little is left. Such was our 
case in returning from the Morteratsch glacier, so that, after 
passing the rustic bridge of Bernina Brook again, and reach- 
ing the little chalet that we had passed, we sank down in 
the rustic chairs of its ground with a sigh of exhaustion, 
thirsty and heated. 

The tumblers of milk brought were fresh, rich, and in- 
vigorating ; it must be that the rich herbage that I have 
referred to at this season in this region imparts a corre- 
sponding richness to the milk. With a half hour's rest and 
our refreshment here at the chalet, we were sufficiently in- 
vigorated, and soon on the way back to where we had left 
einspanner and driver some hours before. The latter, who 
was comfortably snoring beneath his vehicle, was roused, 
and his horse was again harnessed, and we rattled back 
through Pontreseina, on for four miles, and up the wooded 
height to our little hotel at St. Moritz, in season for the table 
d'hote dinner, at 5 p. m. 

From St. Moritz to Coire, where we desired to take to 
the rail again, is a two days' posting journey over wild and 
romantic mountain passes. But, invigorated by a week's 
rest at our little mountain retreat, we were ready for the 
journey. Accordingly the inevitable post-carriage was duly 
secured, the contract drawn up by the English-speaking as- 
sistant of the host of the Pension Suisse, whose ijse of the 
language betrayed an occasional refreshing of memory at 
the dictionary, as for instance when he informed us that the 



364 THE ALBULA PASS. 

driver had gone to " charge " the luggage, which I ascer- 
tained was his English for "load" the luggage, and that the 
carriage would go " down stairs safely," meaning down hill 
easily, a sort of pigeon English probably acquired at hotels. 

The luggage having been duly " charged," the hotel-bill 
of three dollars and fifty cents per day each was paid, ■ — a 
high price for Switzerland, but we were at an expensive 
place in the Canton des Grisons, at the height of the sea- 
son, which is very short, and at a resort that is considered 
very fashionable. These details having been settled, the 
well-appointed post-carriage, with its Tyrolean decorated 
harness, and dapple-gray horses, driven by Tyrolean driver 
wearing pointed hat decorated with flower sprigs, came up 
to the door with the usual whip-crack salute, and, as is cus- 
tomary, landlord, landlady, and gentlemanly English-speak- 
ing assistant were at the door to speed the parting guests. 

The white-aproned host had learned enough French to say 
" Bon voyage, Monsieur,^' the fat landlady courtesied and 
smiled, the English-speaking waiter raised his hat and said, 
" A pleasant journey, Madame and Monsieur, good-by I 
wish you," the driver started his team, and we cork-screwed 
up through the little zigzag street of St. Moritz till we left 
it behind and were upon the high road in the fresh morning 
flower-perfumed air, and descended the slope in a brisk trot 
on through the little villages of Cresta and Cellerina, back 
to Samaden, and on to a place called Ponte, turning off at 
which we entered fairly upon the Albula Pass. Now we 
began again the usual series of Alpine ascents, the air pure 
and bracing ; the slopes about and around us are in their 
beautiful livery of green, and high, high above rise the glit- 
tering snow peaks. 

Up, up, still up. Now we pass a sighing pine forest, 
now an open space brilliant with Alp roses and other wild 
flowers, ^nally reaching the rocks and green slopes which 
are above the trees, which now have diminished to bushes 
in size. As we near the summit of the pass, traversing a 



SUMMIT OF THE PASS. 365 

wild, rocky, barren waste, the snow, which wc had seen far 
above us, began to appear in patches upon each side of the 
road, till at last, Avhcn we reached the summit of the pass, 
the carriage path was cut through a snow bank three or four 
feet deep, although it was the fifteenth day of July. Tlie 
summit is desolation itself, and we wind through a perfect 
quarry of rugged, ragged, gray, storm-shattei'ed rocks, and 
after passing these, the mountain sides are seen gashed with 
the avalanches of spring, which frequently damage the road- 
way. 

Notwithstanding the snow in this portion of the pass, the 
southerly slopes in the vicinity appear for a few months to 
be a rich pasturing ground for herds which are driven up 
here to graze, the herdsmen living in rude hovels during the 
three months they are here. We saw hundreds of cattle 
feeding on the rich herbage, for the season for butter and 
cheese making was now at hand, and the tinkling of many 
bells on the lower hillsides was melodious as a carapanalogian 
concert. 

The verdure seemed to spring out of the mountain side 
directly the snow had melted and left it, and it seemed 
singular to see wild pansies blooming at one side of the 
road and a snow bank heaped up on the other, both scarcely 
thirty feet apart. Besides the cattle we observed a species 
of great, gaunt, reddish-brown, long-leg'ged swine scattered 
about on the slopes, seeming not to thrive so well as the 
former, and from their uncanny appearance causing the 
spectator to mentally resolve never to taste pork in the 
Tyrol. 

Grand as ever is the glorious mountain scenery, a new 
phase of that often described by the author, but ever novel, 
never tiresome, always grand and magnificent. The air was 
thin and bracing at the summit of the pass, and made the 
nerves of my face thrill as with neuralgia ; but though we 
were up some seven thousand feet above the sea-level, ambi- 
tious youths, " 'mid snow and ice," could with propriety shout 



366 FROM MOUNTAIN TO VALLEY. 

" Excelsior," for far above us, five thousand feet into the 
air, rose lofty peaks of barren rock, or enveloped in their 
robes of snow which sparkled like frosted silver in the sun- 
light. 

Leaving the summit, we descended through grand notches 
and gorges by tremendous zigzags, often cut 'through solid 
rock, and protected towards the valley side bj'^ stone walls, 
till the scene of snow and ice, and the barren, stony wilder- 
ness of the summit, gave place to the beautiful view of the 
whole of the charming valley of the Hinter-Rliein, rich in 
green fields, picturesque chalets, gi'aceful slopes, and rush- 
ing waterfalls. We halt en route to dine at Bergen, a little 
town in a green arena-like valley, surrounded by lofty snow- 
clad mountains. 

After leaving here, we whirled round through the great 
ravine of the Bergen-Stein. This is a narrow wooded 
ravine, with a road blasted out of the face of the precipice, 
and which runs along high above the river Albula, which 
seems to have cut or worn itself a passage six or seven hun- 
dred feet below us. At times, in the turn of the road, we 
could by leaning over the cliff catch a sight of the angry 
torrent, foaming and boiling over its jagged bed of rocks, 
hundreds of feet beneath us ; and again we could see 
naught but the profound chasm, which our roadway so far 
overhung as to conceal from view the torrent which we 
heard roaring far below. 

It chanced that we were fortunate in the time of our de- 
parture, being a day behind a thunder-storm that had cleared 
the air and swollen the streams, and also sent down some 
avalanches of earth and stone. One from a mountain side 
a mile off had delivered a contribution of three feet in thick- 
ness across the road, which laborers had but just shovelled 
away ere we reached the spot. We have left the wild chasm 
and ravine-like passage of the Bergen-Stein behind, pass 
through a little village called Bad Alvenue, where English 
and other invalids come to make use of the sulphurous 



THE SCHTN PASS. 367 

springs, and still descending by the river-side, run into the 
picturesquely situated village of Tiefenkasten, with its pretty 
cascade tumbling into the Albula River, and its old ruined 
castles in the distance on the hillsides, above its resting- 
place in the hollow of the hills. 

Coming down from the wild Bergen-Stein ravine, we had 
one of those novel and interesting sights that are often wit- 
nessed in the Alps, from the eifects of atmosphere, clouds, 
or various changes of weather in these lofty altitudes. This 
was what is popularly known as a sun-shower, a light shim- 
mering rain falling, and the sun shining brightly at the same 
time. Looking through this, the green hillsides and fields 
of the valley, populated with men and women who were 
scrambling to get their hay in, had an indescribably beauti- 
ful appearance ; but, as we descended and rode out of the 
shower, the driver halted and called to us to look back, 
when, lo I the whole great gorge above us was spanned by 
an immense rainbow, one end resting on the barren moun- 
tain, and the other upon the opposite side among the larch 
trees, a gorgeous sight. 

On we go, and about two hours after leaving Tiefenkasten 
are in the beautiful Schyn Pass (pronounced Shin Pass), an 
unromantic name for a most romantic pass, with lofty preci- 
pices, profound ab^'sses, and splendid specimens of engineer- 
ing skill throughout its Avhole length, — reminding one very 
much of the Via Mala in general characteristics. Some of 
the road is cut through a species of black slaty rock, and 
portions of it are damaged frequently by the storms of winter. 
We passed through one gallery and over one bridge by the 
side of an abyss which was entirely without guards, all hav- 
ing been washed away the previous winter with a portion 
of the roadway, which was supported by masonry ; this latter 
had been replaced and strengthened, and a fresh barrier was 
to be erected. 

After an enjoyable ride through this pass, we reached in 
the afternoon Thusis, the gate as it is called of the Via Mala 



368 GATE OF THE VIA MALA. 

Pass, where we halted for the night, and after a good night's 
rest, despite a furious thunder-storm, we took a morning 
walk to enjoy the fresh atmosphere and romantic scenery 
before starting again on our journey. At a bridge that runs 
across the river Rhine at this point, there is a beautiful view 
of the valley. 

The river Nolla, which flows into the Rhine at Thusis, has 
a most singular appearance. Standing on the Nolla Bridge, 
the river, which came rushing down over shelving layers of 
black, slate-looking rock, appeared black as ink, and as it 
flows into the Rhine, discolors that stream for quite a dis- 
tance with its sable hue. This color is caused by the con- 
tinuous washing of the porous slate banks of the river, 
converting them into a black paste, till the whole stream 
has the hue above described. A glorious view we took in 
on the Nolla Bridge, which afforded us a panoramic picture 
of a portion of the valley of the Rhine, with its barrier of 
lofty mountains. A huge gorge was seen with the river 
Rhine running through it on one hand, and on the other 
the rushing Nolla sending down its inky tributary stream. 
High over the banks of the Rhine, some six hundred feet 
above the river, are the ruins of the most ancient castle in 
Switzerland, Hoch-Realt, said to have been founded by 
Raetus, leader of the Etruscans, b. c. 587. 

Leaving the bridge, we took a walk upon the commence- 
ment of the Via Mala Pass, whose huge walls rise perpen- 
dicularly over twelve hundred feet on either side. The 
roadway is cut in the solid rock, and far below it the river 
runs roaring through the deep and narrow gorge. 

Having previously made the passage of the whole pass, 
we walked but a short distance — say about a mile and a 
half — to the first great gallery, two hundred feet in length, 
that penetrates the solid rock. But this is one of the finest 
portions of the pass, and tourists halting at Thusis, if not 
going over it, should make at least this pedestrian excursion 
of two or three miles, and they will be well repaid by the 
wild and grand scenery of this gloomy defile. 



THE SPLUGKN ROAD. 369 

After refreshing our memories of a former visit to the 
Via Mala by this walk into its rocky fastnesses, and our- 
selves by an excellent breakfast, we were once more behind 
the post-horses, and soon left Thusis behind us as we dashed 
out on the Splugen road, passing through beautiful valleys 
with liuge mountain barriers on each side, and various vil- 
lages, till we came in sight of Reichenau, with the snow- 
clad Brigelser Horn towering above it. At this village 
there was pointed out to us the chateau in which Louis 
Philippe sought refuge in 1793. He was then Due de Char- 
tres, and arrived here on foot, stick in hand, and lived at 
the place for nearly a year as an usher in a school, giving 
lessons in French and mathematics, his secret known only 
to one person, — the head master of the school, — to whom 
he brought a letter of introduction, and during his exile 
here he heard of his father's death on the scaffold and his 
mother's banishment. 

We cross the Rhine over a long single-span bridge, two 
hundred and thirty-seven feet in length, high above the 
river, and come into the prettily situated and pretty Ro- 
mansch village of Ems, with its ruined castle, and leaving 
it behind, drive on out into the open country, passing 
within a short distance of a village called Felsburg, that is 
so near to the mountain side as to be in constant danger 
from avalanches. Indeed, it may be said to have had sev- 
eral warnings, as large ledges of rock and soil have slipped 
from the hill-side close at one end of the village, rushing 
half-way across the valley, — a sufficient bulk to overwhelm 
a large portion of the village, had it fallen there. We could 
see the great track of the earth and soil where the slide had 
taken place, and what remained above the village looked of 
treacherous and uncertain tenure. Some of the inhabitants 
have already taken the alarm and moved away, but a large 
portion of them remain, perhaps to experience the fate of 
those at Goldau. 

We drew up at the Steinbock Inn in Coire at two p. m., 
24 . 



370 CLOSE EXAMINATION OF CUKIOUS RELICS. 

parted with our post-carriag'e previous to taking the railway 
one next day, but employed the afternoon in visiting the 
upper part of the town or eminence upon which is situated 
the Episcopal Palace, and which commands a beautiful view 
of the surrounding country, the river Plessur, on which 
Coire is situated, and which flows into the Rhino, and the 
Rhine itself. We did not go into the palace, but accepted 
the services, proffered in pantomime, of a little Swiss boy 
to pilot us up the steep declivity to the Cathedral of St. 
Lucius, an edifice built in the eighth century, with curious 
old columns, resting on lions, and bearing sculptured repre- 
sentations of the Apostles in pairs, and containing a high 
altar most beautifully carved, and curious stalls and taber- 
nacle, all made in the year 1491 ; also two or three noted 
pictures, one by Rubens and another by Holbein, and a 
curious gold and silver crucifix upon anotlier altar, made 
during the twelfth century, the sarcophagi of some old 
counts and bishops, and antiquities which render the church 
a most interesting place to visit. 

The Treasury, or Sacristy, of the church was in charge of 
a good-natured old priest, who let me have pretty much my 
own way among the rich church plate of. antique workman- 
ship of the fourteenth centurj', the relics, shrines, and other 
curiosities. A piece of the oldest silk in Europe, said to 
have been made in 513, was carefully preserved in a glass 
case; then there were old documents of King Othu, 888; 
of Ludwig, son of Charlemagne, 836 ; Charlemagne, 184 ; 
and others of the time of 849, 831, &c. The bones of St. 
Lucius, and skulls of other old saints, whose eyeless sock- 
ets were rimmed with emeralds and rubies, the custodian 
permitted me to handle at will, and also to closely examine 
the glass frame between which were the drops of blood of 
some other saints, nails from the true cross, and other won- 
ders, which, having now become somewhat of a seasoned 
traveller, I neglected to make anything more than a gen- 
eral memoranda of in my note-book, knowing that all well- 
regulated cathedrals possess them. 



ARRIVAL AT PRAGUE. 371 

But some of the most valuable articles in the treasury- 
consisted of the large wardrobe of superb priestly vest- 
ments, the most ancient being' those made in 1491 ; then 
followed those made in 1500, 1600, &c., down to our own 
time, enough to clothe fifty bishops. They were of the 
most elegant silk, velvet, and other stuffs I ever looked 
upon, loaded with the most magnificent gold embroidery, 
and heavy with bullion. One was shown me, of which the 
outer robe alone was valued at twenty-five thousand dollars, 
so rich was it in gold trimming and costly embroidery. In 
fact, the wondrous richness and beauty of these church 
vestments stowed away here in a Swiss cathedral was 
amazing. But Coire, it is recorded, is the oldest bishopric 
in Switzerland. 

There is little else in Coire to interest the visitor. 

From here we took rail for Munich, thence to Vienna, 
both of which having been referred to at length iu a former 
volume (" Over the Ocean "), a description is omitted here. 

How vexed we were, on arriving at Prague one hot sum- 
mer's evening, to find no hotel omnibuses of any kind in 
waiting at the railway station, — nothing but a party of 
garlic-smelling coachmen bawling in a jargon we could not 
understand. Tliere were seven of us, American and Eng- 
lish, in the party, and we had concluded to stay over a day 
or two on our route to Dresden, and see what sights we 
might in that time ; and out of the party we managed to get 
together enough of the proper language to engage coach- 
men to take us to a hotel. The first two houses tried 
were full ; in the next we filled all the rooms remaining, and 
were congratulating ourselves, on assembling in the salle d 
manger, to find on the bills-of-fare handed us as we sat 
down to supper, a line stating that the proprietor, having 
resided in New York, particularly recommended himself to 
Americans and foreigners. 

In whatever capacity he had served in America, it could 
not have been in hotel-keeping, as we found to our sorrow ; 



372 A HURRIED VISIT. 

for the cuisine was barely tolerable, the sleeping-rooms vile, 
and the beds hard and uncomfortable ; so that, after a sleep- 
less night and bad breakfast, it was unanimously voted not 
to stay another night in Prague, but to take the first train, 
which left in a few hours, so that our sight-seeing was lim- 
ited to a very brief space of time, which was devoted to a 
ride around through some of the principal parts of the 
AUstadt or old part of the city, which stretches along the 
margin of the river, and abounds ia crooked streets, shops, 
and buildings black with dirt, age, and antiquity ; and, as 
we glanced upwards, we observed that Prague seems to be 
built upon the sides of slopes or successive eminences, 
rising one above the other, crowned by the imposing palace 
or castle of the Bohemian kings, known as the Hradscliin, 
upon the crest of a hill which overtops all the rest. 

Of course we must visit that point ; so we soon found 
our carriage whirling over a long and massive bridge, built 
in 1503, and spanning the river Moldau, Which divides the 
old and new parts of the city, Altstadt and Neustadt, on 
one bank, from the Eieinseite (small side) and Hradschin on 
the other. 

All along the battlements of this bridge stood colossal 
figures of various saints, — distressing-looking objects in 
ecclesiastical costume. There were twenty-eight of them, 
in all, and the most celebrated is one in bronze with a five- 
pointed cross above him, with a metallic star at each point 
of the cross. We were halted to look at this, as it repre- 
sents St. John Nepomucenus, and was erected in 1683 in 
memory of John something or other, whom the king threw 
over the bridge into the river at this point because the said 
John refused to disclose to him the confession made by the 
queen to him, which the king was exceedingly anxious to 
get hold of. John 'was drowned without betraying his 
secret, but such a chance for a Papal miracle was not to be 
allowed to pass, and so five stars are said to have hovered 
over the spot where the body of the drowned priest lay. 



PANORAMIC VIEW OF PRAGUE. 373 

until attention was attracted and he was drawn from the 
water and canonized as a saint, and his body put in a mag- 
nificent shrine in the Cathedral. We only had time to ride 
to a point near the new iron suspension bridge, which is 
erected a short distance above here. Betvveen these two 
bridges the bank of the river has been laid out as a hand- 
some promenade, affording a beautiful water view, and a 
handsome Gothic open monument stands there, in which, 
beneath the wrought stone canopy, is a bronze equestrian 
statue of the former Emperor Francis of Germany, from 
which the promenade takes its name, Francis, or, as they 
call it, Franzens Quai. The base of the monument is sur- 
rounded by allegorical figures, and the vicinity appears to 
be a ver}' pleasant and attractive resort. 

I was vexed indeed, when I came to consult my guide- 
book, and found what were the riches and curiosities of the 
Cathedral, and to reflect upon the historic associations of 
the city and its points of interest, which might at least 
have occupied me two days, that I had thrown aside the 
opportunity and had but an hour or so of rapid ride, for our 
trunks had been sent to the railway station, and tickets 
taken, after coming to the hasty decision to leave. Lastly 
we rode up to the Ilradschin. Talk of riding up I I think 
I never rode up so steep a street before ; it was almost at 
an angle of forty-five degrees, — and on arrival at the castle 
we had barely time to look hastily through a room or two, 
containing nothing extraordinarily attractive, and to survey 
the beautiful panoramic view of river, city, and country 
from its battlements, ere the enemy, Time, summoned us to 
descend in order to reach the station in season for the train. 



374 DEESDEN. 



CHAPTER XYI. 

The Hotel Bellevue, in Dresden, is very pleasantly sit- 
uated, and, thanks to advance despatches, we had delightful 
apartments, with windows looking out upon the River Elbe, 
up and down which went the little steamboats, — for it was 
the summer season, — and out to the floating bath-houses, 
moored mid-stream, continually went the row-boats with 
passengers. 

In full view also was the noble stone bridge across the 
Elbe, connecting the old with the new city. A magnificent 
structure it is, fourteen hundred and twenty feet in length, 
and thirty-six feet in width, and has foot-pavement and iron 
balustrade on each side. It rests on sixteen arches, and is 
said to be one of the finest bridges in Germany. A friend 
called our attention to the piers of this bridge, the project- 
ing portions of which, built in the usual form to resist ice 
or freshets, were on the wrong side of the bridge, — that 
is, point down with the flow of the tide, instead of against 
it. What may be the reason of this is a problem, unless 
the river ran in the opposite direction when the builders of 
172*7 restored the work of the old artisans of the twelfth 
century. 

Our windows overlook the pleasant little garden at the 
rear of the hotel, fragrant with flowers and fresh with a 
plashing fountain ; and we descend, walk across it, and take 
breakfast on a covered balcony almost overhanging the 
river, commanding a pleasant water-view, and a long beer- 
garden upon the banks a little distance further along, which 
is gay in colored lights in the evening. At the end of the 
great bridge, over which we can see the crowds continually 
passing and repassing, rises the lofty spire, three hundred 
and fifty feet above the pav^ement of the Frauenkirche, or 



PROTECTION OF ART TREASURES. 375 

Church of our Lady, with its dome of stone, upon which 
the shot and shell of Frederick the Great rebounded harm- 
lessly in his siege of the city in. 1*760. And this reminds me 
of the wondrous preservation of the crowning attraction of 
the city, the Dresden Gallery. 

Founded in the beginning of the last century, it has re- 
mained unharmed and uninjured amid the innumerable con- 
flicts that have since convulsed Germany, and often rolled 
almost up to its very portals. When Frederick the Great 
bombarded the city, and even battered down churches, he 
forbade the artillery to fire upon the Picture Gallery ; and 
Napoleon is said to have also been so considerate, that 
none of the pictures ever made the journey to Paris by 
his order. 

From our perch over the river we look, on the other 
hand, about half a mile down the Elbe to the beautiful rail- 
road bridge, a structure with twelve graceful arches, each 
of one hundred feet span, its whole length being about 
fifteen hundred feet. Our first walk was over the old 
bridge, which is used for purposes of traffic, and it is a 
broad, spacious, and elegant causeway. One event in its 
history is that General Davoust blew up two of its arches 
in 1813 to cover his retreat. 

After passing the bridge we soon came to a large open 
square, or market-place, in this Neusfadi, as it is called, or 
new part of the city, and in the centre is a copper statue of 
old Augustus the Strong, on horseback, to whom be all honor 
for his cherishing, purchasing, and protecting works of art, 
the foundation of the grand collections that to-day make 
Dresden so celebrated in the world of art. 

Not far from here is the building known as the Japanese 
Palace, bought by Augustus as a depository for various art 
collections, and which was one of our first sights in Dres- 
den. It now contains a fine numismatic collection, a hall of 
antiquities, and a magnificent collection of porcelain. The 
antiquities, which are principally Roman sculptures and re- 



376 THE JAPANESE PALACE. 

mains dating from the time of tlie empire, are of rather a 
tame and uninteresting' character after one has visited the 
great galleries of the Vatican ; in fact, there are but few 
pieces of remarkable or striking execution in the collection. 

Modern busts such as those of Marshal Saxe, Cardinal 
Richelieu, and Gustavus Adolphus, though well executed, the 
tourist who has become familiar with sculpture galleries will 
pass by hastily. There was a beautiful group of girls and 
women, found in Herculaneum in 1715, in perfect preserva- 
tion, which halted us at once to admire their beauty ; also a 
fine marble figure of Venus, an athlete, a sarcophagus with 
bacchanalian procession on it, a statue in gray marble of a 
pugilist, Assyrian bas-reliefs from Nineveh, lions cut from 
Egyptian granite, Roman vases, and German antiquities. 

The Royal Library, which contains over half a million 
volumes, occupies the entire upper part of the building, and 
is particularly rich in manuscripts and maps, containing no 
less than 20,500 of the latter, we were informed. There is 
in the grand or principal hall a great variety of curiosities 
and literary antiquities, over which we lingered with much 
interest. Beneath a glass case lay curious Runic calendars, 
written on boxwood, and made in the twelfth and thirteenth 
centuries ; manuscripts in the handwriting of Luther and 
Melancthon ; a tournament book of King Rene, of the fif- 
teenth century, which was once the property of Charles the 
Bold. Albrecht Dtirer's work on the proportions of the 
human figure, with his own original illustrations of the sub- 
ject ; volumes containing numerous beautiful miniatures 
(one presented over fifty of noted men of the fifteenth and 
sixteenth centuries, elegantly painted, the colors fresh as if 
laid on yesterday) ; a curious Mexican hieroglyphic docu- 
ment twelve feet long ; elegantly executed illuminated 
missals and books on parchment, the letters and illumina- 
tion as beautiful as the best press-work of to-day, and mon- 
uments of the artistic skill and patience of the sandalled 
brotherhood that produced them hundreds of years ago ; 



MUSEUM OF PORCELAIN". 377 

and besides all these, many specimens of the first attempts 
at typography and engraving. 

But the collection in the Japanese Palace, which seems 
most to excite the admiration, is the magnificent collection 
of porcelain of East India?i, Dresden, Japanese, Chinese, 
French, and other manufactures, which is contained in 
the series of vaulted rooms in the basement story of the 
building, which are not very well lighted or adapted for 
the display. If a catalogue could have been procured, 
or the heavy, dull custodian have spoken French, or any- 
thing but German, we might have more thoroughly enjoyed 
this almost endless collection, which has been in process of 
accumulation for over one hundred and fifty years. Here 
were the specimens of the celebrated Dresden work, from 
the first attempts in 1709 down to the elegant workmanship 
of the present day ; a bewildering series of all the difierent 
Chinese varieties, some of the old vases and bowls made in 
the time of Confucius, and others of the most fantastic and 
ugly patterns conceivable ; blue china and curious antique 
Indian china that would make a collector crazy with delight ; 
and of the small plates, bowls, and cups of Chinese and 
Japanese workmanship, many of surprising richness and 
beauty. 

One could trace the improvement made in the manufac- 
ture of some of these collections, from rude attempts to 
elegant productions, though it must be confessed that the 
art seemed to have been pretty thoroughly understood by 
those whom we are accustomed to think semi-barbarous 
nations long before the more civilized. And even now, in 
strength of material, delicacy of hue, and novelty and 
originality of design, they in many respects excel. 

After leaving this interesting collection, we drove to a 
neighboring street to look at the exterior of the house where 
Sciiiller resided from 1184 to 1786, and also another in 
which Korner, the poet, was born (1769). Both houses are 
indicated by marble tablets let into the walls, bearing in- 



37B STEEETS I]Sr DRESDEK. 

scrip tions, and both are in a street named Korner-Strasse 
(or street), after the soldier-poet, whom the Germans seem 
to regard with sacred admiration. 

Many American readers, not familiar with German litera- 
ture, but who used John Pierpont's National Eeader and 
American First Class Book in their youthful days at school, 
will remember extracts from the poet's "Lyre and Sword," 
such as the " Sword Song," the " Battle Hj^mn of the 
German Landsturm," and others. His most popular battle- 
songs were written in camp, while he was. in the army 
fighting against Napoleon. As a soldier, he displayed 
great bravery, and was killed in battle, at the age of thirty- 
four, in a contest near Rosenberg, in 1813. We afterwards 
saw, in the Georges-Platz, a handsome bronze statue of the 
soldier-poet. He was represented standing, draped in his 
military cloak, with his left hand pressing his sword to his 
breast, while his right grasps a scroll of poems. 

Coming back over the old bridge, we see directly before, 
in the Altstadt (old city), the Royal Palace and Roman 
Catholic Court Church, for the court is Roman Catholic, 
though the people are not so, as there are said to be not 
over eight thousand Romanists in the city, in which Protes- 
tantism flourishes sturdily, and will, as of old. Speaking of 
this Court Church, however, the music on Sundays is mag- 
nificent, and is one of the prime attractions to foreign 
tourists who are in the city on that day. 

Fronting us, also in the Altstadt, as we recross the bridge, 
are the Museum, or Zwinger, which contains the celebrated 
Dresden Gallery ; and, just at the left, after leaving the 
bridge, we came to the broad and beautifully laid-out prom- 
enade above the banks of the river, known as the Brvihl 
Terrace. This terrace runs along for about one-third of a 
mile, and you mount to it from the street square by a very 
broad and elegant flight of steps. Upon these steps are 
four splendid groups of statuary, cut from sandstone, repre- 
senting Day, Night, Morning, and Evening. This beautiful 



THE DRESDEN GALLERY. 379 

promenade, which is shaded with trees, is a favorite public 
resort, and crowded on pleasant evenings. At the farther 
end of it is one of the best beer gardens and restaurants in 
Dresden, the Belvedere, where you may enjoy the music of 
a full band for an admission fee of ten cents, and a large 
glass of beer for half that amount. 

The Briihl Terrace reminds me of the illustrious Henri de 
Brtthl, the favorite and all-powerful prime minister of 
Augustus III. of Saxony from 1733 to 1763 ; for his name, 
and that of his illustrious master are connected with the 
foundation of the greatness of that chief attraction of Dres- 
den, the peerless Dresden Gallery. I approach this grand 
collection of art in these pages almost with fear and trem- 
bling, knowing that a mere tourist's sketch of this superb 
collection of masterpieces must necessarily be weak and in- 
adequate in its endeavor to convey to the reader anything 
like a correct idea of their value and beauty as works of art. 

There are collected, in this grand gallery, nearly three 
thousand different examples of the French, Flemish, Vene- 
tian, Lombardic, Genoese, Bolognese, Roman, Holland, and 
Spanish schools of painting 

Raphael's Madonna, in this collection, — one of the great 
works of art in the world, — has, as it should have, a room 
by itself, and is so perfect a work that no art education is 
required to enjoy it. This beautiful woman, holding a love- 
ly child in her arras, with the beautiful Santa Barbara 
kneeling at one side of her feet, and a venerable old man 
(St. Sixtus) at the other, and with the two cherubs below, 
forms a group that is familiar to the whole world. But the 
surpassing beauty and heavenly expression of the Madonna's 
countenance, the loveliness of the child in her arms, and 
even the exquisite beauty of St. Barbara's face, and angelic 
countenances of the cherubs, have never yet been caught bj' 
copyists. They exist here only in the original of the great 
master, as does the rich coloring of the drapery, the celes- 
tial halo of the floating clouds, and the general happy com- 



380 Raphael's madokna. 

bination of coloring, grouping, and finish that serve to make 
a perfect whole. 

This work of Raphael belongs to his most brilliant epoch, 
and is the only oil-painting which, in conception and bold- 
ness of execution, reaches the character and grandeur of the 
celebrated cartoons. According to Vasari, it was painted 
for the high altar of the black monks of the Convent of St. 
Sisto, at Plaisance, and remained there until Augustus 
III., who had already admired it when, as electoral prince, 
he visited Italy, made an unsuccessful effoi't to purchase it. 
But it was not until forty years after his visit, in 1154, 
that, by the enterprise of an artist named Giovannani, who 
had made himself thoroughly acquainted with its beauties 
and its authenticity, it was purchased for this gallery for the 
round sum of nine thousand pounds. 

Giovannani made the monks take down the picture, which 
had remained for two hundred years above their altar, and 
which had become dry and somewhat blackened, before he 
would positively decide to take it. Close examination re- 
vealed that but slight restoration would bring out all its won- 
drous beauties : a part of the drapery was bent back into 
the frame, and a portion of the infant's body stained with 
incense smoke, which could easily be removed. The princi- 
pal injury, which was easily remedied, was the extreme dry- 
ness to which it had been subjected. The picture was secured 
and sent to Dresden as soon as the shrewd monks could have 
a copy made to take its place over their altar. It was not un- 
til 1827 that the picture, after arrival in Dresden, was carefully 
cleansed, and then the upper part of the curtain and aureole 
in the picture was, for the first time, discovered turned back 
beneath the frame. This portion was properly stretched, and 
the painting restored to its original dimensions. 

It is said that, when the painting arrived at Dresden, 
Augustus was so impatient to see this much desired master- 
piece, that he ordered it to be brought and unpacked at the 
royal castle. It was carried into the throne-room, or hall 



THE HOLBEIN MADONNA. 381 

of aiidienco, and on being unpacked the attendants hesitated 
about placinjj it in the best light, which was on the dais occu- 
jDicd by the throne itself. The king, however, moved the 
royal seat with his own hands, exclaiming, " Place for the 
o;reat Raphael," an evidence of his royal devotion to art. 

The Holbein Madonna, a picture which was originally 
painted by Holbein for a burgomaster of Basle named 
Meyer, and in which the artist introduced portraits of his 
patron's family, is another of the masterpieces of the Dres- 
den collection. There is a dispute as to whether this is the 
original picture by Holbein or the so-called Darmstadt 
Madonna, now in the possession of Princess Elizabeth of 
Hesse, — this being said to be Holbein's own copy of his 
original, and by others iiice versa. 

Be this as it may, the Dresden picture is a beautiful work 
of art, rich in coloring and glorious in finish, notwith- 
standing two of the kneeling figures, at the right, seem like 
Turkish women half enveloped for a walk, the infant in the 
mother's arms puny, and far inferior in ruddy health and 
beauty to the one at the Madonna's feet, which is evidently 
a portrait of the sturdy old burgomaster's youngest ; his 
heav^y self kneeling close at hand. 

This picture has quite a history, having passed through 
many hands after the burgomaster paid his thousand silver 
crowns for it, and was at last bought in Venice in 1743 for 
this gallery for a thousand sequins. 

The masterpieces of great artists are so many, the collec- 
tion of gems of art so rich, that one hardly knows whei'e to 
begin, what to mention, or which to omit. Here we revel 
iu an exceedingly rich collection of the Flemish and Dutch 
school of art. Old Brouwer's Dutch boors ; Van Ostade, 
whose pictures almost smell of beer and tobacco ; Gerard 
Duow's beautifully finished works. I will not say how long 
I stood gazing at his faultless and beautiful Praying Plermit, 
wherein the gray head and beard, the old brown robe, 
skull, hour-glass, and book, the bank of earth upon which 



882 MASTERPIECES OF GREAT MASTERS. 

they are placed, the vegetation, tree-trunk, and surroundings 
ai'e so exquisitely finished and faithfully executed as to excite 
expressions of admiration even from the inexperienced, 

Teniers and Snyders are here in abundance. Of the former 
I noted Peasants in an Ale-house, his Chemist at a Furnace, 
and A Village Fair. Then we had a host of Wouvermans, 
with that everlasting white horse in every picture ; cows by 
Paul Potter ; Cnyps ; beautiful landscapes by Jacob Ruys- 
dael ; the deliciously finished details of Wilhelm and his son, 
Franz Mieris (one especially, of an old gamester, whom a girl 
with glass of wine in hand is embracing, is exquisitely fin- 
ished) ; a girl bringing wine to a man seated at a table, and 
other figures, with a beauty of finish, detail, and color th^t 
Gerome and Meissonier to-day cannot rival. 

The spectator may enjoy twenty specimens of Rembrandt, 
among which is his well-known picture of himself, with wife 
en knee and tall beer-glass in hand, so familiar from its 
reproduction in photographs and in paintings on porcelain, 
and distinguished for its richness of coloring of his own 
somewhat theatrical-looking costume, the pretty German 
face of liis wife, and the faithfulness of the execution of 
drapery. Noah's Sacrifice, portrait of an old woman 
weighing gold, portraits of the artist, &c., are among his 
other works. 

The Reading Hermit, by Salomon Koninx, which is 
frequently copied upon porcelain, is a wonderfully executed 
work of art : the aged, wrinkled brow, broad, massive, and 
thoughtful ; the coarse, brown robe, the broad, snowy 
beard, the attitude, as he leans upon one hand, while with 
the other he supports the broad volume that he pores over, 
are all magically correct ; you almost expect a passing 
zephyr blowing in at the cave opening will make the old 
recluse's snowy beard sway, or rustle the leaves of his 
massy volume, which look as if you could turn them over 
at will. The folds of the brown woollen robe can scarcely 
be counterfeit, for within half a dozen feet you cannot tell 
it from reality. 



OLD VS. NEW SCHOOL. 383 

Ah I it is the work of these truly great artists, where 
harmony of composition, blending of colors, and g-race of 
attitude combine to make the picture, and are coupled with 
such a thorough counterfeit of reality as this, that makes 
one think that such genuine art, such indisputable excel- 
lence, smashes to atoms all the fine theories respecting new- 
school daubs and obscurities, glaring effects, and color com- 
binations, which must be viewed at a certain distance, or in 
'certain lights, and which we are told to accept as high art 
under the pain of excommunication from the fashionable 
circles of the art patrons and art critics of to-day. 

Another beautiful picture with which I was familiar from 
its frequent reproduction on porcelain was that of Vogel, 
of the two little children who had paused in their play to 
turn over and look at a picture-book of birds and animals. 
The sweet face of the youngster that is turned from the 
book towards the spectator, will linger long in his mind, 
with its childish, innocent beauty, more especially if the 
visitor have children of his own. 

But what a wealth of pictures there is here by artists 
whose names are of world-wide celebrity, those of whom 
everybody has heard who has ever read a book or news- 
paper. Pictures, the copies of which you have seen in 
magazines and story-books when a boy, that you have seen 
as framed engravings, have looked at even in the family 
Bible, or which are familiar from numerous copies in every 
style ; here they startle you with their original beauty, 
revealing the reason of their frequent and rough repro- 
ductions. 

For here are the works of Raphael, Rembrandt, Rubens, 
Correggio, Angelica Kauffman, Snyders, Teniers, Ostade, 
Albrecht Durer, Cuj^p, Carlo Dolce, Paul Potter, Guido 
Reni, and others whose names are familiar as household 
words everywhere, and hosts of others familiar to art 
students and educated persons, and whose glorious works 
excite the admiration even of the uneducated who gaze upon 
them. 



384 AEBANGEMEKT OF THE PICTURES. 

Like the Vatican, the Dresden Gallery is one of those 
sights that should be enjoyed leisurely and intelligently, the 
visitor looking over a section of it one day and returning in 
a day or two after to see more, taking it comfortably and 
enjoyably, or he may find that, besides a confused jumble 
of ideas, he also will have an aching head and fatigued 
limbs from the perambulation of its endless galleries. 

It is, however, a succession of wonders and delights, and 
the general arrangement of the whole excellent and sys- 
tematic. A long parallelogram is divided into twelve 
principal halls, with a grand rotunda in the centre. 

These different halls are devoted to the different schools 
of art, and are lettered from A (which is devoted solely to 
Raphael's Madonna) to N. They contain large-sized pic- 
tures, but all along at one side of these large halls are a 
series of cabinets, or smaller apartments, containing lesser- 
sized paintings. There are twenty-one of these lesser halls, 
which are fair-sized apartments, and which, added to the 
others, make thirty-five rooms in all the visitor must traverse 
upon this floor, to say nothing of the corridors and staircases 
approaching or leaving it. Of the large halls, five are 
devoted to the Italian schools and six of the cabinets ; one 
large hall to Spanish and Neapolitan schools ; four halls and 
seven cabinets to the Netherlands ; one to the German, &c. 

These are on the main or first floor of the Gallery ; but, 
leading from one of the halls of the Netherlands pictures, 
is a corridor by which you reach an adjacent pavilion con- 
taining three saloons of splendid pictures by living artists ; 
and then we have the cupola saloon in the centre of the hall, 
adorned with elegant pieces of Flemish tapestry ; and from 
this saloon a staircase ascends to another hall or upper floor, 
which the guide-book says contains "a few modern pictures 
and others of inferior value." But I found Angelica Kauff- 
man's picture of a Vestal, the Disputation of Luther and 
Dr. Eck — a fine large painting by Julius Hiibner, — and Paul 
Veronese's Europa on the Bull, and some others, which were 



ARTS TREASURE HOUSE. 385 

only " inferior " on account perhaps of the greater wonders 
that were in the halls below. 

It will be seen, therefore, that there are no less than forty 
different rooms full of paintings in the Dresden Gallery. 

Besides those already mentioned, I find numerous gems 
of art marked with notes of admiration in my note-book, 
among which are some beautiful Oorreggios, including his 
Adoration of the Shepherds, and Madonna and Saints ; Paul 
Veronese's Adoration of the Magi, and Clirist bearing the 
Cross, a picture of great power ; Titian's Cupid and Venus ; 
Guido Reni's grand picture of Ninus and Semiramis ; Cor- 
reggio's exquisite Mary Magdalene ; Claude Lorraine's coast 
views ; Poussin's beautiful landscapes. 

Teniers I have already spoken of. Here are his Boors at 
a Country Fair Drinking and Smoking ; and there are scores 
of his and Wouverman's pictures in the cabinets that you 
may compare the one with the other at leisure, luxurious 
leisure among such pictures as these. Let the reader re- 
flect, as he reads the few names given in these pages, what 
a wealth of art they indicate, and what a treasure-house of 
great artists we are in. 

Here we pause in a room of pictures by Rubens and 
Van Dyck. Here is another with Rembrandt's portraits, 
and Snyder's Wild Boar Hunt ; Van Dyck's Jupiter and 
Danae, and his Children of Charles I. of England ; Rem- 
brandt's Feast of Esther and Ahasuerus ; and Rubens' Diana 
and Nymphs returning from the Chase. Another hall shows 
us pictures by Holbein and Albrecht Diirer ; another, Titian, 
Guido, and Caravaggio; and another, Ruysdael, Terburg, and 
Ostade ; another with sixteen pictures by Gerard Duow, and 
another with the beautifull}' finished works of F. and W. 
Mieris. 

The three halls of modern pictures contain many striking 

and beautiful paintings. Among them I noted that of the 

Saxon Grenadiers at the Battle of Jena, by Schuster, also 

his Battle of Borodino, both superb battle-pieces ; two pic- 

25 



386 THE TOURNAMENT HALL. 

tures by Dahl — Signing a Deed, and the Ferry ; and a 
magnificent Spring landscape and Bridal Procession, by 
Richter. But, though the record of these titles calls up to 
the author a series of the most beautiful creations of the 
painter's pencil, it is only dull enumeration perhaps to the 
reader who has never looked upon them. 

In the same building that contains the gallery of pictures 
is the Historical Museum, a magnificent and most interest- 
ing collection ; and the Tournament Hall far surpasses the 
celebrated Horse Armory of the Tower of London. From 
the very entrance into this grand museum, you begin to 
study history from relics and mementos of the past. The 
great entrance-hall is furnished in the Renaissance style 
of the time of Augustus I., and hung with portraits of 
the Saxon princes, and contains curious antique furniture, 
great cabinets, and richly carved chairs and tables. Here 
in Luther's own cabinet is the old goblet from which he 
drank, and the sword that he once held in his determined 
grasp, and cups of curious and antique workmanship which 
belonged to, and have been used by, celebrated personages. 

Then came a room entirely devoted to hunting imple- 
ments. Here were the cross-bows and bolts of the fifteenth 
century, the tough boar-spears, and elegantly hilted and 
richly scabbarded hunting-knives, hunting-horns, and among 
these latter the hunting-horn used by Henry IV. of France ; 
the falcon's hood, and the belts, gloves, bows and arrows 
of the archers. But the grand and magnificent display is 
the Tournament Hall, where, seated upon their motionless 
steeds, are the richly armed figures of the old warriors of 
two or three hundi'ed years ago. The wondi'ous finish of 
some of these suits of mail is fairly marvellous, and sug- 
gests that the jeweller's art must have been united with the 
armorer's -to produce it, so exquisitely are the inlaid damas- 
cened and chased designs wrought. 

Another thought that is suggested on examining these 
figures is, the prodigious amount of muscular strength and 



HISTORIC ARMOR SUITS. 387 

endurance it must have required to bear about this weiglit 
in battle, and the impediment it must have been to rapid 
movements. Doubtless some of the armor displayed here 
is the show or parade suits of the princes who owned them, 
but a larg'e portion of it has seen actual service in the 
battlefield as well as the tournament lists, as is well authen- 
ticated. 

One suit of armor of solid silver was most elegantly 
wrought, and was made in Italy for the Elector Chris- 
tian II., who died in 1611 ; another suit, magnificently 
decorated, was made for the same prince in Augsburg, and 
is a splendid piece of workmanship. Then we have the 
armor of Gustavus Adolphus ; two elegantly gilded suits 
of armor of Prince Christian, who died in 1630; the elegant 
armor of the Duke Charles Emmanuel of Savoy, who died 
in 1630 ; and exquisitely wrought suits of Milan steel, made 
as light as such metallic clothing could be, and shield 
the wearer from sword-cut and lance-thrust. There were 
numerous figures whose names were as novel to me as 
those of the Norse chieftains, which were labelled as hav- 
ing fought in their suits on long since forgotten battlefields, 
and the dints of the contest were still visible. 

Here, in the next apartment, a long hall called the Saloon 
of Battles, are arranged in chronological order the armor, 
weapons, and other paraphernalia of war used by the Saxon 
princes and great generals ; and here I saw the armor of 
that brave King of Poland, John Sobieski, which he wore 
at the raising of the siege of Vienna in 1683 ; the swords 
of Peter the Great of Russia, Fredei'ick the Great of Prussia, 
and Charles Xll. of Sweden, and Augustus the Strong of 
Poland ; Frederick the Great's hat. Napoleon's boots, shoes, 
and pen ; and a weapon of a more peaceful power, Thor- 
waldsen's chisel. 

As an evidence of the strength of that stout old chieftain, 
Augustus the Strong, they show us here a horseshoe which 
he broke in halves by twisting it in his more than iron grip. 



888 THE SALOON OF COSTUMES. 

Here is the sash that was worn by the Elector Maurice in 
the battle of Sievershauseu in 1533, where he was killed — 
and the stains of his blood are still visible upon it ; pistols 
that were used by Charles XII. of Sweden and Louis XIV. 
of France ; a perfect series of fire-arms from their first in- 
vention down to the present time, including the old arque- 
buse and a great variety of curious and richly finished 
pistols, including our old friend, the revolver, of a hundred 
years or more ago ; the great scythe-sword used by the 
Poles in their memorable struggle ; curious arms and tro- 
phies of various kinds captured by the Saxon troops in dif- 
ferent memorable battles, including a Moslem tent of a Turk- 
ish commander, and the horse-tail standards, cimeters, and 
shields taken from the Turks. 

In a Saloon of Costumes we saw the robes and regalias 
of the old kings of Poland, which were most gorgeous in 
gold embroidery and jewelry ; also coronation robes worn 
by various princes. The shoes worn by Napoleon at his 
coronation, and a sumptuous saddle that once belonged to 
him, are among these relics. 

Of swords there seemed to be every conceivable pattern, 
short, long, broad, cavalry, and cimeter. There were those 
with their hilts wrought to a degree that suggested the 
Chinese ivory carving ; others fairly crusted and blazing 
with diamonds and precious stones ; scabbards of gold, 
silver, and more serviceable leather or iron, — a museum of 
swords, rich, rare, curious, and historical. 

But we have not yet done with this grand collection of 
art, antiquity, and science, the Zwinger, in which most of the 
noted Dresden collections are placed. 

Besides those already mentioned, there is the natural-history 
collection, which, though now small, will soon be one of the 
most interesting of its features. The collection of stuffed 
birds here is verj^ fine, and so is that of every species of 
butterfly and moth. This is succeeded bj^ a hall devoted to 
minerals and fossils, in which there is a fine display of ores 



AN Aladdin's cave. 389 

of different kinds, geological specimens, and curious fossil 
birds, fishes, and plants, which have been discovered from 
time to time. A mathematical and medical museum con- 
tains many curious scientific instruments and apparatus, 
some of which are of memorable historic interest, and others 
showing their earliest invention and progress that science 
has since made. 

Although a Saxon king to-day would make but a poor 
(lisplaj^ in the comparison of his income list with that of the 
other monai-chs of the old world, his collection of treasures, 
kept intact and handed down since the reign of Augustus 
the Strong in 1*724, would indicate more gorgeous posses- 
sions than any other, and rival those which we have read of 
as belonging to East Indian princes. 

For when one fairly gets in among the wonders of the 
celebrated Green Vaults, it really seems as if the workshop 
of the fabled gnomes had been opened to view, such is the 
wondrous wealth of gold and gems and precious stones there 
displayed, and not only of value in themselves, but made 
more so by the curious and ingenious workmanship that has 
been bestowed upon them ; and as you pass from room to 
room, and from cabinet to cabinet, where curious-shaped 
pearls are used to represent grotesque dwarfs, and rubies 
and emeralds are wrought into Lilliputian figures, great 
ostrich-eggs into artistic drinking-cups, and whole fortunes 
of diamonds twisted into glittering and flashing semblance 
of feathers, plumes, and flowers, you can but, amid continu- 
ous exclamations of wonder and admiration, find that the 
thought will continually intrude itself, as to whether the 
years of patient labor required to produce these results 
might not have been better expended, or whether this won- 
drous collection of wealth might not be used to more ad- 
vantage and service to mankind. 

The royal palace which contains the Green Vaults is an 
irregular old building inclosing two quadrangles. It was 
founded in 1534, and in the eighteenth century was enlarged 



390 THE GREEN VAULTS. 

and improved by Aug-ustus the Strong. In fact, it seeras 
as if one could scarcely look up any authority of museum, 
palace, science, art, or advancement here tliat this grand old 
Augustus in his time did not put the impress of his encoura- 
ging influence upon. 

At one ^nd of this palace is a fine tower, said to be the 
loftiest in Dresden, over three hundred and sixty feet in 
height, which I should have liked to ascend ; but from some 
blunder of my ticket of admission, or from the lack of my 
knowledge of the tongue of the country, or the custodian's 
lack of understanding of English and French, we were un- 
able so to do, and contented ourselves with viewing the 
magnificent frescos in the throne-room, which represent 
different scenes in the lives of great lawgivers, com- 
mencing with Moses and his tables of stone, and coming 
down to Maximilian I. ; and the splendid state ball-room, 
which is decorated with frescos of the heroes of Greek and 
Roman mythologj'- and classical history. 

The Green Vaults we found to be on the ground floor of 
this palace, probably so called because they are not green, 
but were once decorated in that color. They consist of 
eight different rooms, in which are collected a most won- 
drous assortment of curious riches — among them splendid 
carvings in precious metals. A statue of St. George, cut 
from a solid piece of cast-iron, is a curiosity, although iron 
may not be classed as a " precious "metal; but in the same 
room are bronzes of rare and beautiful workmanship, among 
them one by John of Bologna, a crucifix of most artistic 
design and finish, also groups of the Rape of Proserpine, 
Bacchus and Children, and statues of Louis XIV. and Au- 
gustus the Strong, and numerous other elegant figures and 
groups. 

There is a room entirely devoted to the ivory collection, 
which contains some of the most wonderful specimens of 
carving in that article I ever looked upon. One is an ivory 
cup, only sixteen inches high, which is one mass of intricate 



WONDERS OF ARTISTIC WORK. 391 

carving, which must have been the labor of years, for upon 
it are more than one hundred distinct figures carved, repre- 
senting the Foolish Vh'g-ins, lamps in hand ; Lucifer and 
his angels being hurled down from Heaven in every va- 
riety of attitude ; and the very features in the faces of 
these figures are wrought out so that an ejipressiou is visi- 
ble in each. A wondrous crucifix, wrought by Michael 
Angelo : a battle-scene, carved by the cunning chisel of 
Albrecht Diirer ; elegant vases carved with figures in bas- 
reliefs ; hunting-cups, with scenes of the chase beautifully 
wrought upon them ; elegantly carved sword or dagger 
handles ; groups of the Battle of the Centaurs ; Hunting the 
Stag ; the Crucifixion, &c. 

Another room was rich in elegant Florentine mosaics ; 
carvings in amber of crucifixes ; angels. Madonnas, and curi- 
ous figures of animals and flowers ; exquisite paintings in 
enamel, including a beautiful Madonna and Ecce Homo ; 
wondrous work in coral, of birds and flowers and heads ; a 
magnificent chimney-piece of Dresden china, which was ele- 
gantly adorned with various precious stones, agates, chal- 
cedou}', and rock-crj'stals. Others contained great ostrich- 
eggs fashioned as cups, and set into pedestals, with tracery 
and pictures wrought upon their sides, some in a framework 
of delicate- tracery of gold that sparkled with diamonds, 
rubies, and emeralds ; nautilus-shell cups, their sides bril- 
liant with the hues of the opal, set in elaborate framework 
of the goldsmith's art, a choice design upholding them, as 
ship or vase or drinking-cup, according to the fancy of the 
designer ; drinking-cups fashioned by the artificer into grif- 
fins or dragons, and seemingly into most inconvenient shapes 
for use ; and two goblets actually cut out of antique gems, 
and valued at ten thousand dollars the pair. 

Here, in one of the rooms devoted to gold and silver orna- 
mental work, we saw a pitcher and cup wrought by Ben- 
venuto Cellini ; splendid gold and silver wrought plates, 
goblets, pitchers, and cups in exquisite design ; and in 



392 COSTLY BURLESQUES. 

another room, cups of agate, jasper, chalcedony, great vases 
of pure and beautiful rock-crystal, a large globe of rock- 
crystal, and the largest pearl in the world, which is the size 
of a hen's egg, and wrought into the shape of a fat-bellied 
court dwarf. 

A display of jewels of rare value, and the magnificent re- 
galia of Augustus II., King of Poland ; a collection of Dres- 
den porcelain, with curious carvings in ebony and other 
woods, occupied another room, — a perfect museum of aston- 
ishing workmanship. 

Another feature of the Musexim was a curious collection 
of caricatures of men and animals, made from pearls and 
other precious stones, — a man, for instance, with body 
of glittering ruby, a quaint-shaped pearl forming his face, 
and two sapphires his legs ; a great pearl forming the body 
of a dog ; a monkey, with eyes that flamed in rubies and 
diamonds, and a body that was of emerald ; curiously 
shaped pearls, sapphires, agates, or other precious stones, 
that would make you laugh to see how these natural shapes 
had been adapted to cause them to become pot-bellied little 
old men, red-bodied hunchbacks, or green dragons with 
ruby heads and diamond eyes, or deformed dwarfs, whose 
bodies were worth a small fortune ; serpents that flashed in 
all the colors of the rainbow, and peacocks that unfolded 
most attractive tails. 

The further we penetrated, the richer and moi-e wondrous 
grew the wealth. Suits of armor that flashed with diamonds 
and precious stones ; regalia that was heavy with rubies, 
emeralds, diamonds, pearls, and sapphires of marvellous bril- 
liancy ; plumes of diamonds, and necklaces of emeralds and 
pearls ; one grand necklace of great diamonds, being val- 
ued at seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars ; swords 
that in drawing you might grasp a hundred and fifty 
thousand dollars in the great, flashing diamonds that studded 
the hilt ; the electoral sword of Saxony ; daggers that ri- 
valled the most wondrous worn by Eastern princes, and 



JEWELS SOWN BROADCAST. 393 

costly jewels that were enough, it seemed, for a nation's 
ransom. 

In the room, the last of the series, diamonds seem to be 
shown in masses, and other precious stones to be a drug ; 
and here arc many of the most rare and interesting speci- 
mens of jewels : the largest onyx known, — seven inches 
high, and two and one-half broad ; opals of a size and 
blaze that were fairly amazing ; the largest sardonyx known, 
which is six and a half inches long, and four and a quar- 
ter broad ; Peruvian emeralds, presented, in 1581, by the 
Emperor Rudolph III.; splendid sapphires, one of very large 
size, the gift of Peter the Great ; a black diamond, a very 
rare and curious gem ; two rings that belonged to Martin 
Luther ; the crown-jewels, including one remarkable green 
diamond, which is used as an ornament for the hat, and 
weighs one hundred and sixty grains, and is worth half a 
million dollars. 

Elegantly wrought works of the goldsmith's art are also 
displayed here, among which is a costly lamp, upon which 
is displayed the myth of Acteon and Diana ; beautiful vases 
and drinking-cups, too elegant to use, being simply speci- 
mens of rare artistic workmanship in the precious metals. 
Some were mere contrivances, designed, it would seem, to 
prevent persons from drinking from them. Many of these 
were wrought, in 1705 to 1728, by a celebrated Saxon ar- 
tificer (Dingliuger), who was the Saxon Benvenuto Cellini. 

But the crowning wonder in the Green Vaults is the 
costly toy entitled "The Court of the Great Mogul," which 
represents the Great Mogul seated on his throne in state, 
surrounded by his guards and courtiers, receiving and giv- 
ing audience to ambassadors, and awaiting the approach of 
troops and subjects, who are seen advancing to do homage 
or bring gifts or tribute. The space occupied by this court 
and the actors in it is about thirty-six by fifty inches in 
space ; and the number of figures, none of which is taller 
than one's little finger, is one hundred and thirty-two, all of 
gold, diamonds, and precious stones. 



394 COURT OF THE GREAT MOGUL. 

The tent over the Mogul's elegant gold-enamelled and 
decorated throne is of gold, — the throne itself, the size of 
half a letter-sheet, a perfect blaze of diamonds, rubies, and 
emeralds. The figures are all elegantly apparelled with 
rich gold-enamel, rubies, diamonds, and costly chasings 
upon their Oriental robes ; and the most delicate finish is 
visible in each of these little figures, even to the features of 
their faces and the sparkling of jewels on their sword-hilts. 
Some of the figures were cut jewels, and others had turbans 
of cut rubies and emeralds. Here approaching is an am- 
bassador with his oflScers ; in another place, a troop of 
horse ; again, an Eastern dignitary, with elephant, Ethiopian 
slaves, and costly retinue ; a party arriving in palanquins, 
a whole supper-party carousing at table, and a tiny band of 
musicians playing at full blast upon their instruments ; 
troops of guards, properly posted ; slaves, sentinels, and 
officials passing from point to point over the golden terraces 
upon their several duties. All are beautifully wrought in 
the highest style of the goldsmith's art. Twenty years' 
time, besides I know not what amount of money, was 
expended in this golden representation of Lilliput, — a 
curious, wondrous, and most costly, and, one cannot help 
saying, useless toy. 

Fatigued with our examination of this Aladdin's cave, we 
were glad of a pleasant drive round the outskirts of the 
city, where were the residences of many of the better 
classes of people. The houses are generally surrounded 
by handsome gardens, and at one angle of the same a solid 
wall is built towards the road beneath broad, spreading 
trees that overhang it, or an arbor is trained above it. Here 
in this angle a little platform for tea and beer-drinking is 
arranged for the family, where, as they sit, their line of vis- 
ion is just over the inclosure, so that they see all the pass- 
ing without being too much exposed themselves. Many of 
these arbors at the wall-corners are elaborately and beauti- 
fully arranged, and shaded with beautiful running plants or 



DRESDEN BEER GARDENS. 395 

ornamented with choice exotics, and, on pleasant summer 
afterjioons, are uhiiost always occupied by family groups. 

Tlie humbler classes in the suburbs, who have no such 
protection from the scrutiny of the passers-by, seemed to 
enjoy themselves equally well in the little garden plots iu 
front of their houses ; and it was a pretty sight to see the 
old artisan and his family grouped around a pine table, and 
taking their evening meal beneath a little bower of running 
vines and flowers, sitting in their rustic seats in a little gar- 
den hardly twenty feet square, gay with many-hued flowers, 
and a perfect model of neatness. 

Good musical entertainments may be had at a very cheap 
rate in Dresden, — that is, if one will be content to take 
them as a larger portion of the inhabitants do, which is at 
the beer gardens in the summer season. At the Belvedere 
Eestaurant and Gardens, on the banks of the Elbe, we lis- 
tened to a very fine programme of music, performed by a 
full orchestra, the admission to which was but about ten 
cents. The sales of Vienna beer, light wines, and other 
refreshments to the four or five hundred persons who were 
present was, of course, the chief source of profit to the 
proprietor. 

At this place, and also at a fine park called the Grosser 
Garten, we met groups of people of the first respectability 
around the tables, sipping their beer, applauding well-played 
compositions heartily, and at the intermission walking about 
and visiting each other at their different tables, as is done 
at different boxes at the opera-house. The waiters at these 
beer-gardens literally have their hands full ; for they will 
carry a wonderful number of beer-glasses at once, and 
take an innumerable number of orders at a time, the latter 
being given and executed at the close of the performance 
of each piece. 

Dresden is full of these pleasure and beer gardens, and 
some are pleasantly situated on the river-banks, and, be- 
sides the music, give exhibitions of fireworks on certain 



396 AMEBIC AT!TS IN DEESDEN. 

evenings ; or the visitor may, during the day, enjoy the 
cool breeze and pleasant views which they command. The 
American visitor in Dresden may be certain of finding a very 
liberal representation of his countrymen in the summer sea- 
son at the evening concerts at these places. 

As it is pleasant in the summer season here, the living com- 
paratively cheap, the surroundings of the city pleasant, music 
cheap, excellent, and plentiful, and the city decorous and quiet, 
and said to be one of the best places to study the German 
language in, it has quite a large population of American and 
English residents. As usual, however, I was informed by one 
of my countrymen that the Americans had, by their prodi- 
gality of expenditure, been the means of raising the price of 
living, within the past few years, as well as that of articles 
which tourists most do purchase ; and even in some of the 
beer-gardens, the sharper sort of waiters have now the trick 
of charging the newly arrived American, whom he may de- 
tect as such, a trifle more than the regular rate for his glass 
of beer, a trick he would not dare practise on a regular 
habitue. 

There seems to be but very little business enterprise in 
Dresden ; all transactions of that nature being carried on in 
a slow, phlegmatic, Dutch sort of style, as if time was of no 
account, which is exceedingly exasperating to the electric 
American. This may be the reason that many tired ones, 
who have come to Europe for rest from business, halt here 
for the season. 

Dresden poi-celain, so celebrated the world over, is made 
at the Royal Porcelain Factory, founded in ItlO, at Meissen, 
a short distance from the city, where six hundred workmen 
are kept employed ; but we did not visit it. Scarce any 
tourist leaves the city, however, without buying a specimen 
of painting on porcelain ; principally copies of popular 
and celebrated pictures in the gallery, such as " The Choco- 
late Girl," " The Madonna," Salomon Konincx's " Reading 
Monk," Gerard Duow's " Praying Hermit," " The Three 
Children," by Vogel, &c. 



BERLIN — UNTER DEN LINDEN. 397 

Very beautiful water-color copies of the Madonna are made 
here ; but, as poor and cheap copies are also made, visitors 
who purchase either porcelain or other stj'le of copies of pic- 
tures should be good judges, or purchase at reliable places, 
lest they be imposed upon. Some of the artists who copy 
pictures on porcelain will propose to take orders of tlie 
visitor and forward him a copy to Paris or London, — a risk 
which should seldom if ever be taken, and especially no mono}' 
paid in advance for such work ; for these artists rival the Paris 
shopkeeper in the matter of promises, which, they evidently 
consider, are only invented to be made, not performed. . 

We sought the Hotel du Nord, in Berlin, where we had 
very tolerable accommodations at fair prices. It is situated 
on the street known as Unter den Linden, which is a broad, 
grand avenue of one hundred and sixty feet in width, and, 
as is well known, takes its name from the double row of 
linden-trees that are planted along it, and which, from the 
frequent references made to it by newspaper correspond- 
ents, the style in which authors emphasize the " linden " 
part of it, and the unctuous manner in which those who 
spoke of it rolled out the words " Unter den Linden " from 
under their tongues, had been pictured in my imagination 
as chiefly remarkable for the elegance of form and um- 
brageous shade which these beautiful trees would present ; 
but, alas ! for imagination, the reality presented only a lean 
array of trees, sparse in foliage, and nothing to compare to 
the linden walk on Boston Common, the elegant elms of 
New Haven or Portland. 

As far as the linden part of the street is concerned, it is 
scarcely up to mediocrity ; but it is in the busiest and 
best part of the city, contains grand hotels and shops, beau- 
tiful palaces, and statues, including that of Frederick the 
Great ; and, crossing it at right angles, are many of the 
other broad avenues of the city, down which the spectator, 
as he passes them, has a good view of the busy scenes that 
are transpiring. 



398 STATUE OF FREDERICK THE GREAT. 

The celebrated Brandenburg Gate, which is a sort of tri- 
umphal arch between the city and the great pleasure park 
of several hundred acres, known as the Thier Garten, is at 
one end of this grand avenue, and the Royal Palace at 
the other, while at the finest point in the street, near the 
great public buildings, is the magnificent bronze statue of 
Frederick the Great, familiar to all Americans who have 
visited the American Centennial Exposition at Philadelphia, 
where so many bronze copies of it were on exhibition in 
the German department. 

The statue of Frederick the Great, being but a few rods 
distant from our hotel, was the first sight that we turned 
our attention to. It is a magnificent monument in bronze, 
the pedestal surmounted by an equestrian figure of the 
monarch. 

Baedeker's guide-book says, " The Great King is repre- 
sented on horseback, with his coronation robes and his 
walking-stick, in bronze." If Frederick's coronation robes 
were a close-fitting military frock, and a military cloak, 
fastened at the neck, and falling back from the shoulders, 
then this description is correct ; for in this way the figure 
is clad, the high military boots, small clothes, sash, and 
well-known cocked hat completing the costume. 

The monument is in all forty-two feet in height, its ped- 
estal divided into three sections. The first above the 
foundation-stone, which is of polished granite, contains the 
inscription, and the names of distinguished men of the time 
of the great monarch. Upon the top of this, which is not 
covered by the second section, — which is smaller, and 
leaves a broad shelf or platform all around it, — are large 
bronze figures, of life-size, of contemporaries and distin- 
guished military officers of the king, as Prince Henry of 
Prussia, Generals Zieten, Seydlitz, and others, — the figures 
at the corners being equestrian. 

Upon the sides of the second section are also figures of 
distinguished men, sculptured in bas-relief. Above this is 



STATUAKT IN BERLIN". 399 

the third soction, supporting- the platform, upon which 
stands the great equestrian figure. This block is orna- 
mented on the sides and ends with allegorical and other 
figures representing scenes in the king's life, and illustrating 
his love of arts, arms, and music ; and at the four corners 
are the figures of Justice, Strength, Wisdom, and Mod- 
eration. 

Berlin seems to be partial to statues, for all along 
Unter den Linden ai'e statues of her celebrated men, the 
military element predominating, and the exteriors of the 
palaces and museums are adorned with groups in marble or 
in bronze. A little further along, and we come to the 
palace bridge, or old Schloss-Briicke, as they call it, which 
crosses an arm of the river Spree, upon which the city is 
located. On each side of this bridge are four groups of 
marble statuary, larger than life, illustrating military life, 
and I suppose designed as an incentive to the Prussian 
military spirit. 

In the first group, Minerva is exciting the youth to the 
profession of arms, by exhibiting to him a warrior's shield, 
on which are inscribed the names of Alexander, Caesar, and 
Frederick ; in another, she instructs him in the use of arms, 
and is teaching him to throw the javelin ; in another she 
presents him with a sword ; and in the fourth she crowns 
him victorious. The other groups represent her protecting 
the warrior, encouraging him to action, raising him when 
wounded, and conducting him in triumph. 

Between Frederick's statue and the bridge just described 
I paused to look at the bronze statue of General Bliicher, 
with two other generals, one at his right and one at his 
left, all over life-size ; and in front of the guard-house are 
placed statues of Biilow and another general, both very 
well executed in bronze, and the pedestals ornamented 
with handsome bas-reliefs ; while beyond the bridge, in the 
Lusfgarlen, — a two hundred and fifty yards square in- 
clusure, — is an equestrian statue of Frederick William III. 



400 OLD FRIENDS IN" A NEW PLACE. 

This inclosure is bounded by the Eoyal Palace on one side, 
the old Museum, the Cathedral, and the arm of the Spree 
just spoken of, on the others. 

The old Museum front presents a beautiful Ionic portico, 
about two hundred and seventy -five feet in length, with a 
double row of handsome pillars of that order of architec- 
ture, eighteen in number. Above them, upon the cornice 
they support, is a row of eagles with half-spread wings; and 
high above these, on the corners of a central dome, two 
groups of statuary, — "the Dioscuri'^ is what the guide- 
book calls them, and which the reader who is not versed in 
Greek and Roman mythology (as is the condition of more 
than two-thirds of those who use guide-books), will ascer- 
tain, on overhauling his classical dictionary, means the well- 
known mythical heroes, Castor and Pollux. Castor was 
famed for his skill in managing horses, and Pollux for box- 
ing ; so one may presume that the statues must have been 
designed for the equestrian brother, as they represent ath- 
letes beckoning or holding up their arms to rampant horses. 

But if the traveller has been at Rome, he will recognize 
them as copies of the two groups on Monte Cavallo, or 
Quirinal Hill, which are supposed to represent Castor and 
Pollux, and to have been sculptured by Phidias and Prax- 
iteles. Indeed, a later edition of one guide-book seems to 
recognize this error of supposing all travellers to possess 
a classical education, and calls the statuary "The Horse- 
tamers of Monte Cavallo." 

At each side of the entrance of the old Museum are two 
splendid bronze groups : one a horseman engaged in combat 
with a lion that he has thrown to the ground, and is about 
to transfix with his spear; and the other an old and familiar 
acquaintance that figured at the first Crystal Palace Exhibi- 
tion in London, — the Amazon on horseback, defending her- 
self against a tiger, by Kiss, — a beautiful and effective 
group. In front of the steps of the Museum is a huge 
granite basin, which fairly rivals some of the great stone 



MAGNIFICENT BRONZE GROUP. 401 

vases of the ancient Romans, which are preserved in the 
collection in the Vatican, for it is twentj'^-two feet in diam- 
eter, and weighs seventy-five tons. It was cut from a 
single large bowlder, and brought to Berlin from a spot 
thirty miles distant. 

Two more large groiips of "horse-tamers" are posted at 
the entrance by which the public are admitted from the 
Lustgarteii to the Royal Palace ; and one of tlie most spir- 
ited groups of bronze statuary in Berlin, I think, is that of 
St. George and the Dragon, a colossal group in bronze, by 
Kiss, in the first great court-yard after entering at this 
portal. 

It represents the valiant English champion, not in armor 
save coroneted helmet, which gives opportunity for the 
sculptor to show the contour of an elegantly moulded 
form, seated upon a rearing horse. With left hand he 
bears the banner of the cross aloft ; the right is swung up, 
grasping the trenchant blade for the downward cut at the 
monster that is partially prostrated beneath his horse's fore 
feet, but which rears its terrible form, the scales upon the 
neck rising with its anger, and its horrid claws uplifted to 
drag the rider from his seat. The figure of the dragon, 
with its demoniac wings, scales, and long, serpent-like tail, 
with its fold catching around one of the horse's hind legs, 
is the best reproduction of the mythical monster that I 
have ever seen. Certainly it is a most elaborate and fin- 
ished piece of work, while the figure of tlie horse is excel- 
lently done ; and St. George, with noble and determined 
countenance, sits the steed like a bold rider, and wields his 
sword like a brave warrior. 

Just before passing over the Sclilosa-BrUcke (palace 
bridge) above mentioned, we see the Grand Opera House, 
along the roof of which is a perfect string of statuary ; 
and in the tympanum, which is a sort of flat, triangular 
space inclosed by the cornice, supported by four pillars 
above the main entrance, is au appropriate group, which is 
26 



402 THE BRAIfDENBTJKG GATE. 

cast in zinc. They represent the Muse of Music, the Tragic 
and Comic Muses, the Dramatic Poet, alleg-orical figures of 
Painting and Sculpture, a Terpsichorean group, and the 
Three Graces. 

The reader will observe, or he who has ever been in Ber- 
lin, that I am taking the usual first walk of every newly 
arrived tourist who settles himself upon Unter den Linden, 
that is, a saunter up and down that splendid avenue, to get 
the bearings and distances, and see the beautiful buildings 
and their exterior ornamentations, and the statues that 
abound in the city, before entering the picture-galleries, 
museums, or shops. So I went to the other end of the 
famous street to see the Brandenburg Gate, which is at the 
opposite point from that which I have just been describing. 

This structure is modelled after the Propylse, an entrance 
to a grand temple or sacred inclosure at Athens. It is a 
splendid structure, seventy-five feet in height, and two hun- 
dred in width. The central entrance is reserved for royalty 
only, and the structure is supported by elegant Doric col- 
umns. There are four other entrances ; and the top is 
crowned by a group, in copper, of Victory in a chariot 
drawn by four horses, which is celebrated as having been 
carried away by Bonaparte in 1807, but brought back in 
triumph in 1814. 

Near this gate is the fine square known as Pariser Platz, 
named in honor of the victories of 1814 ; and about here are 
several beautiful buildings, among them Bliicher's Palace, 
presented to him by the city as a testimonial for his arriving 
at Waterloo before night, and thereby gratifying Welling- 
ton's wish on that memorable day, "that night or Blticher 
would come;" the residence of Marshal Wrangel ; and the 
palaces of the French embassy, Count Boitzenberg; and 
various public buildings. 

By the time one has reached the Brandenburg Gate, 
making the pedestrian tour that I had, in this first examina- 
tion of Unter den Linden, he comes to the conclusion that 



THB PEOPLE OF BERLUf. 403 

there is much here to see, and that Berlin is a large city. 
One fact which struck me as singular is, that so little stone 
is used in the construction of buildings. This was found to 
be accounted for by tlie fact, that there are no good stone 
quarries in the vicinity of Berlin; hence brick and stucco 
work is extensively used, which lacks that solid and sub- 
stantial appearance which one looks for in large buildings. 
Berlin is said to be situated in the midst of a dreary plain 
of sand, that is destitute of either beauty or fertility, and a 
writer has described it as " an oasis of stone and tnick in a 
Sahara of sand." But there is more brick than stone. 

The city of Berlin ranks fourth among the capitals of 
Europe, and contains nearly a million of inhabitants, of 
which twenty-three thousand are soldiers, twenty thousand 
Roman Catholics, and sixteen thousand Jews. When Louis 
XIV. was weak and despotic enough to revoke the cel- 
ebrated Edict of Nantes, as he did in 1685, and drive four 
hundred thousand Protestants out of French dominions, 
who would rather leave the country than conform to the 
established religion, France lost by the act her best mer- 
chants, manufacturers, and skilled artisans. The loss to 
the nation was immense, and the gain, to Prussia and other 
countries that received them with open arms, correspond- 
ingly great. Berlin especially profited by this emigration, 
and there are still among her inhabitants over six thousand 
French Protestants, descendants of the exiles who left their 
native land and sought asylum here by reason of the French 
sovereign's infamous decree. The surface of the city of 
Berlin is as flat as Philadelphia, but is not laid out in such 
painfully parallelogramic regularity as the American city. 
Its streets are broad and generally well kept, and there is 
but little in their general features to remind the American 
that he is in a foreign country. 

The streets are all " strasses " (straassers, as you must 
learn to call them), and you will find in the old part of the 
town the Konigs-Slrasse, or King's Street, a busy and 



404 PUBLIC BUILDINGS. 

bustling scene of trade. Here is situated the Imperial Post 
Office ; and, opposite, a splendid brick edifice, the Bathhaus, 
as Baedeker's guide-books call it, neglecting to translate it 
into English as the City Hall. It is built of granite and 
brick, and has a frontage of three hundred and twenty-five 
feet, a magnificent portal, and a great tower which is two 
hundred and seventy-six feet in height. I sauntered in 
without guide, and up its staircase to a grand corridor, the 
vaulting of which was spangled with stars, and the glorious 
stained-glass windows rich with the armorial bearings of 
nearly one hundred different cities and towns ; and entered 
the magnificent saloon devoted to the library, the vaulted 
ceiling of which is upheld by fourteen columns and twenty 
pillars. The books are in bookcases, the doors of which 
'are ornamented with medallion portraits. 

There is another elegant hall here, which the guide-book, 
presuming that all travellers understand German, calls a 
" Festsaal," and which a German friend tells me signifies 
Banquet Hall, which has a superb ceiling in fret-work, broad 
oaken doors elegantly carved, and magnificent candelabra. 
Near by is the Town Council-Chamber, which is elegantly'- 
decorated ; and the Magistrate's Saloon, which is adorned 
with fine full-length pictures of the kings of Prussia The 
grand tower of this building is said to command a fine pros- 
pect ; but the author, having had considerable pedestrian 
exercise in the lengthy streets of Berlin, resisted the cour- 
teous invitation of the custodian to ascend. 

Other interesting streets, which my pedestrian rambles 
brought me into one day, are the Leipziger-Strasse and the 
Friedrichs-Strasse, the latter the longest street in Berlin. 
This quarter of the city, called the Friedrich Stadl, is that 
most visited by tourists, is the best and most regularly laid 
out, and contains the finest shops. And, speaking of shops, 
Berlin is the headquarters for amber ornaments. There are 
quantities of amber used in Vienna and other cities for 
mouthpieces for pipes ; but Berlin is where the tourist can 



BERLIN STREETS AND SHOPS. 405 

make his purchases most to advantage. In the shop-win- 
dows, elegant necklaces, chains, bracelets, brooches, cigar- 
holders, mouthpieces, and even candlesticks and vases of it, 
were exhibited, some of exquisite and delicate straw color 
and translucent. This is the "earth amber," and is the 
most valuable. Amber varies in delicacy of tint like coral, 
the palest and lightest of yellow being the most expensive, 
and the latter, of the purest description, can be found in 
beautiful designs at the Berlin shops. 

In America, we are all familiar wnth Berlin worsted work. 
The worsted was in old times called " crewel," to distin- 
guish it from worsted yarn. Here the fine, delicate work 
called single stitch, especially in delicate designs of flowers, 
and even copies of paintings for screens, which are wrought 
with great beauty, may be purchased at a price which to 
American ideas is a very low figure ; and American ladies, 
consequently, come away laden with it ; while the beadwork, 
which in America is sold with Berlin work, and which some 
of my lady friends expected also to find here, they were 
disappointed iu not being able to obtain, that class of work 
being found in its perfection, in Frankfort and Munich. 

The Leipziger-Strasse, above mentioned, is also a fine 
avenue, running parallel with Utiter den Linden, and is a 
busy street full of shops, containing, among other attractions 
to shoppers, the show-rooms of the Royal Porcelain Manu- 
factory'', filled with beautiful specimens of this attractive 
merchandise, which fairly rivals the Dresden work. It is a 
museum of samples of the best work from the royal facto- 
ries. Strolling down this street, the pedestrian will see 
sculptured in sandstone, in front of the Prussian War De- 
pai'tment, figures of an artillery-man, a light horseman, 
cuirassier, and grenadier. 

Wilhelms-Strasse (William Street, the translation of many 
of these street names is so obvious that it is hardly neces- 
sary to give them) is quite an elegant avenue. It leaves 
Unler den Linden, and, with Friedrichs-Strasse and a street 



406 THE THIERaARTEN". 

called Linden-Strasse, terminates in a grand circular " Platz " 
known as the Belle Alliance Platz, named in honor of the 
alliance against Napoleon, and containing a magnificent 
monument erected in honor of the peace of 1815, called the 
Column of Peace, which was raised in 1840 to commemorate 
a peace that had lasted a quarter of a century. It is a 
splendid column of granite, with marble capital, surmounted 
by a figure of Victory, with the wreath in one hand and the 
palm of peace in the other. The Wilhelras-Strasse, near the 
Under den Linden, is considered the most aristocratic quar- 
ter of Berlin, containing, as it does, the palaces of Princes 
Alexander and George of Prussia, residences of the Minis- 
ter of the Household, Chancellor of the Empire, Minister of 
Justice, and other distinguished personages. 

At one side of this avenue there opens a handsome square 
called the Wilhelms- Platz, which is elegantly laid out with 
flower-beds, and contains six handsome statues of distin- 
guished generals in the army of Frederick the Great, who 
served with him in his most memorable campaigns. 

Perambulations through Berlin streets rendered a ride out 
to the Thiergarten (garden of animals) a pleasing variation. 
This is the great pleasure-ground and park of Berlin, and is 
two miles in length by about one in width, elegantly laid out 
and finely shaded by grand old trees, and containing artifi- 
cial ponds and streams, some of which — owing, I suppose, 
to the sluggish current of the river Spree, upon which they 
must depend — seemed to be mere pools of green, stagnant 
slime ; but the rustic roads and paths were pleasant and 
romantic, and were decorated here and there with statues, 
while along its borders are some of the most elegant resi- 
dences in the citj'. At one extremity of the garden is the 
Zoological Collection, a remarkably fine one, excellently 
arranged, and containing at the time of the author's visit an 
extensive collection of wild beasts in good condition. 

Driving from the Zoological Gardens, we rode out over 
the Charlottenburg road to that town, to visit the beautiful 



MAUSOLEUM AT CHARLOTTENBURG. 407 

Mausoleum of Frederick William III. and his queen Louise. 
This is a Doric structure in the palace garden, a beautifully 
laid out spot, and is approached through an avenue of 
sombre pines. The interior of the mausoleum is sheathed 
with rich marbles, and in the centre are the marble sarco- 
phagi of the king and queen. They have richly ornamented 
pediment and cornices, the ends being supported by an 
eagle, the royal shield with eagle and crown placed at the 
sides, and handsomely carved pillars at the four corners. 
Upon marble couches at the top rest the recumbent figures 
of the royal pair, most beautiful specimens of artistic sculp- 
ture. 

Queen Louise, who died at the age of thirty-five, is rep- 
resented as lying with a loose sheet thrown over her figure, 
while her head, with the tiara which sets off her beautiful 
face so well, rests on the pillow, and her hands are crossed 
upon the breast. It is an exquisite representation of this 
beautiful woman. Her full-length portrait is in the Royal 
Palace at Berlin, and will none the less fail to excite the 
spectator's admiration. All the details of this fine sculpture 
are so faithfully executed, that, in the subdued halo of deli- 
cately purpled light that falls down upon the figure like an 
atmosphere which is perfumed with a faint fragrance of 
flowers, the spectator is half in doubt if the careless folds of 
the translucent drapery, which reveals even the shape of the 
nails upon the feet and the graceful contour of the body, 
will not be blown aside b}^ the gentle breeze that sweeps in 
from the garden. The king's figure, also recumbent, is in 
military uniform, and folded in his military cloak, and is a 
S25lendid piece of workmanship. 

Both of these figures were executed by the sculptor 
Rauch, who is to Berlin what Schwanthaler was to Munich, 
or Thorwaldsen to Denmark. His works and designs are 
among the most prominent in Berlin, and Queen Louise was 
his roj'-al patron when living. This statue of her is said to 
be his masterpiece, and he spent fifteen years completing the 
two figures. 



408 THE Museums of beblin. 

At the side of each sarcophag-us stands an oleg-ant can- 
delabrum ; one is ornamented with sculptured figures of the 
Three Fates, by Eauch, and the other executed by Tieck, 
with the three Horas, — goddesses who gave to a state good 
laws, justice, and peace. Around the cornice of the temple 
are appropriate extracts from Scripture. This royal pair, 
who possessed many excellent traits of character, and were 
thorough Protestants, died sincerely lamented by the whole 
nation. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

It will require some patience, if the tourist has already 
visited the Vatican, the galleries of Dresden and Munich, 
and maybe some others, to give the museums at Berlin the 
attention they deserve : first, because the collection of 
paintings is not equal in extent, value, or historical celebrity 
to those we have already seen ; and, secondly, because in the 
Museum of Art and Sculpture the objects are but different 
specimens of those we have already seen elsewhere, or casts 
of great original works of antiquit3^ This last feature, 
however, is by no means tabe despised, and good casts of 
the great works of sculpture in the world are, as is well 
known, of genuine service to the art student, and also even 
to the mere curiosity-seeker or casual visitor, as an educator 
of the taste and the eye, so that when he looks upon the 
grand original he is the better prepared to appreciate and 
enjoy it. 

The museums in Berlin are known as the Old Museum 
and the New Museum. The old is comparatively a modern 
affair, as it was finished in 1828, in the reign of Frederick 
William III. It is connected with the New Museum by a 
passage gallery. The entrance and front of the Old Museum 



ALLEGORICAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 409 

are adorned by Kiss's statue of the Amazon attacked by a 
Tiger, and the Horseman and Lion I have ah-eady described ; 
but after passing up the grand flight of steps we come to 
the grand portico, which is elegantly decorated with wall- 
paintings of mythological or allegorical subjects. 

At one side is Uranus, represented as seated, with the 
stars as graceful couples dancing about him, while a great 
rainbow spans the sky ; and the zodiac with its twelve con- 
stellations stretches around. Then we have representations 
of Jupiter creating Light ; Prometheus lighting his Torch by 
Jupiter's lightning-flashes ; Art, Love, and Labor ; War 
with his spear, and Peace with her palm ; Nymphs welcom- 
ing the approach of light ; Venus, the star of the morning, 
preceding the Sun ; and the great Sun-god himself in his 
chariot rising from the sea. 

Turning to the right, we find that the artists have made 
human life their subject in its four epochs, as represented by 
the four Seasons. Spring, the first, shows us a sibyl writing ; 
pastoral tribes and herds ; the Muse and Psyche stringing 
the poet's lyre, &c., — a well-executed fresco, but showing 
a poverty of illustration of so prolific a subject. Next is 
Summer, the noon of life, which is represented by the har- 
vest ; a nymph offering a cup to a warrior ; Pegasus spring- 
ing from the top of Mount Helicon ; a youth and maiden, 
nymphs and poet ; shepherd playing on a flute, showing, 
maybe, artistic skill, but requiring a stretch of imagination or 
very thorough artistic education to satisfy one that it is a 
good allegory of life's noon or summer as it is set down 
to be. 

Autumn, or Evening, is represented by the vintage ; 
young men gathering grapes and pressing them under the 
direction of an old man ; a mother with her child at the fire- 
side ; art developed by the sculptor; heroes returning victo- 
rious, &c. Winter, or Night, shows us the Muses dancing 
before Old Age ; an old man studying the starry heavens ; a 
sailor pulling his boat out to sea, encouraged by the Muses ; 



410 GALLERY OF GODS AND HEROES. 

and farther on we have the grave with mourning relatives, 
and beyond that, genii of light, hailing a new day. 

Beneath these extensive allegorical representations, which 
are from the pencils of Stiirmer, Schadow, and other emi- 
nent artists, are fourteen pictures of the Myths of Theseus 
and Hercules, including representations of the familiar stories 
of Theseus killing the Centaur, Hercules killing the Nemean 
lion, fetching the Hesperidean fruit, and subduing the horses 
of Diomedes. 

But let us go inside the Museum, which is done by as- 
cending a grand flight of steps or staircase leading from 
here to the vestibule. Here stands a metal copy of the 
great Warwick vase, on the right and left of which are two 
granite pillars, one having the figure of Victory and the 
other Apollo on its summit. The walls are decorated with 
frescos representing barbarous and peaceful life. After 
leaving the vestibule, the visitor finds himself in the grand 
rotunda of the museum, a large circular hall fifty or sixty 
feet in height, and crowned b}'^ a glass cupola. Between 
the columns which uphold the gallery above, are eighteen 
ancient statues of Jupiter, jEsculapius, Minerva, Juno, &c., 
and two great bathing-tubs from the Baths of Diocletian at 
Rome. 

Crossing from here, we enter a great gallerj^ of sculpture, 
known as the Gallery of Gods and Heroes. This, although 
it contains upwards of a thousand specimens, will interest 
those who have visited the Vatican at Rome but little, as 
there are but few figures that are of any great celebrity or 
value. Notwithstanding this, as specimens of ancient art 
and antiquity, the visitor will probably find much that is 
worthy of notice. Among those that I find pencilled down in 
my note-book are a figure of a girl sitting and playing with 
dice ; two superb figures of athletes in the attitude of shoot- 
ing, and an exquisite figure of Apollo and four of the 
Muses ; the figure of Polyhymnia, a beautiful draped statue ; 
a bronze figure of a boy prajdng, which was found in the 



HALL OF THE EMPERORS. 411 

river Tiber and purchased by Frederick the Great for seven 
thousand five hundred dollars ; Apollo and Mercury ; Cupid 
bending his bow ; Bacchus with his panther ; Roman Gladia- 
tor ; Satyr and Hermaphrodite, and several fine busts of 
mytholog-ical deities. Opening- out of the great Sculpture 
Hall are two lesser ones : the Greek cabinet, and the Etrus- 
can-Roman cabinet. 

The walls of the Grecian cabinet are adorned with 
paintings representing Greek life from birth to the hour of 
death : the plays of the child, sports and joys of youth, 
occupations of man, and lastly the funeral procession, suc- 
ceeded by the barge of Charon ready to convey the soul 
across the river St3'x. This cabinet contains some fine 
specimens of Greek sculpture and antiquities. The Etruscan 
cabinet has its walls painted in imitation of the walls of the 
tombs at Tarquinii, and contains many interesting remains 
of Etruscan funeral monuments, such as coflSn-chests, one 
of alabaster on which was sculptured a battle-scene ; a 
sarcophagus with a representation of Achilles mourning, 
sculptured upon the top ; altars and Roman remains of 
similar description. 

Opening at one end of the ITall of Gods and Heroes is the 
Hall of the Emperors, so called for its containing a large 
number of busts and figures of Roman emperors, such as 
Csesar, Vespasian, Vitellius, Tiberius, Caligula, &c. ; in fact, 
it seemed as if the whole line of Csesars and Roman 
emperors were here. There was a grand colossal head of 
Vespasian ; Trajan represented as Jupiter ; Marcus Aurelius 
as a ploughman, with a team of bulls; Comraodus; a red 
jasper bust of Titus ; Scipio Africanus the Elder; Crispina, 
the wife of Commodus ; Marciana, sister of Trajan ; and 
Plautilla, wife of Caracalla, — more than a hundred figures 
in all. 

At the opposite end of the Hall of Heroes opens the Hall 
of Greek, Roman, and Assyrian sculptures. Among the 
Greek and Roman objects are an antique copy of the cele- 



412 THE ANTIQUAEIUM. 

brated figure in the Capitoline Museum of a boy extractiug 
a thorn ; a porphyry statue of Vespasian ; Faun with 
young Bacchus ; an athlete in black marble ; a head of 
Medusa, &c. Of the Assyrian works there are the great 
gray marble or alabaster slabs from the walls of the royal 
palaces of ancient Nineveh, which were ei-ected about 
800 B, c. These are covered with figures representing 
religious ceremonies, warlike and hunting scenes ; also 
figures of demons, priests, kings, and eunuchs. One repre- 
sents two eunuchs, with the riding equipage of the king ; 
another a procession ; a third a collection of warriors and 
eunuchs, — all interesting specimens of Assyrian decoration. 

Having seen thus much of the antique, we turn to a hall 
opening out of the Hall of the Emperors, which contains a 
very pleasing collection of mediaeval and modern sculpture, 
including what is said to be the best existing likeness of the 
Emperor Napoleon I., a statue of him as a Roman emperor 
executed by Chaudet, also the first original of Canova — 
a Hebe. 

Descending to the next story, let us visit what is known 
as the Antiquarium, which is a most interesting portion of 
the Museum, especially to students. This is divided into 
collections of gems, coins, antique objects of metal of house- 
hold and daily use among the Greeks and Romans, terra- 
cotta articles, and a splendid collection of antique clay 
vases, containing about two thousand specimens. These 
clay vases and vessels are chiefly from central and lower 
Italy, and from Greece and the Greek islands. They were 
generally those placed as gifts for the dead or in their honor 
in the tombs, where they were arranged about the corpse. 
These vases are important on account of their variety 
of form and grace of model, and also as being the only 
remnants that have been preserved of antique paintings. 

Here are, for instance, vases whose models are used in 
our own time, but which were moulded by the potter's 
bands four centuries before our Saviour came into the world. 



CLASSIC ANTIQUITIES. 413 

These beautiful vases, with figures telling the stories of 
Grecian mythology, are from the artistic touches of the 
workmen of Corinth, where the art twenty-five hundred 
years ago attained its highest perfection ; and the per- 
fection of Greek art is also seen in the black vases witli 
red figures representing festal processions, battles, and the 
chase. 

I cannot enumerate even the principal objects in this 
extensive collection, so many surprise you as works of 
ancient art by their being so similar to modern productions. 
Here are some amphorae (vases with two handles), with 
paintings of the Judgment of Paris, the Deliverance of 
Prometheus, Hercules and Lion, and Bacchanalian revels. 
Another collection of red figures in a background gives us 
pictorial representations of the Rape of Europa, Hercules in 
the Garden of the Ilesperides, and Apollo with the Lyre. A 
third collection of very large-sized vases had among them 
those decorated with figures of Apollo and the Muses, 
Vulcan and his Forge, the Education of Achilles, Hercules 
and Omphale, &c. 

The collection of antique objects of metal is an exceed- 
ingly interesting one, and belongs, with a very few excep- 
tions, to tlie classical nations of antiquity, Greeks, Romans, 
and Etruscans, and gives one something of an insight into 
their domestic life, religious ceremonies, and customs of war. 

As mentioned in my inspection of the Etruscan antiquities 
at Rome, the articles of ancient jewelry and ornamentation 
show a refined taste in art upon which very little advance 
seems to have been made, as our artists and jewellers arc 
using the same patterns and models to-day. Lideed, it 
seems artistic taste was consulted even in the production 
of such articles of household use as saucepans, lamps, and 
shovels. This collection also contains an interesting variety 
of ancient weapons of war, such as helmets, swords, daggers, 
and shields, the originals of what you see in Flaxman's 
illustrations of Homer. 



414 BEAUTIFUL SPECIMENS OP AKCIENT WORKMANSHIP. 

A fragment of Etruscan gold cuirass ; a victor's laurel 
wreath, thirty leaves wrought in pure gold ; a beautiful 
wreath of golden olive-leaves (just think of these specimens 
of the jeweller's art two thousand years ago) ; a diadem 
and bracelets of gold ; a necklace set with two hundred and 
eighty garnets ; engraved gold bracelets ; a clasp of gold 
and' crystals ; a silver ring, with the head of the Emperor 
Alexander Severus cut in onyx ; silver drinking-goblet ; the 
Three Graces in pressed silver, and numerous rings, brace- 
lets, and necklaces of great beauty of design and elegance 
of finish. 

The articles of household use and weapons of war, which 
are of equal, if not exceeding, interest to the gold and 
silver ornaments, are chiefly of bronze, iron, and lead. 
Here are chandeliers or candelabra formed like little trees ; 
an ash-pan with a figure of Apollo for its handle ; plates ; 
toys with artistic handles ; spoons ; and the medicine-chest 
of a Roman physician, on the lid of which is the figure of 
^sculapius inlaid with silver, and inside of which are 
curious antique medical and surgical instruments of the 
owner's time. 

Of the less precious metals the articles were very inter- 
esting. Here, for instance, was the round shield and breast- 
plate of an Etruscan warrior ; swords of various forms, and 
some of graceful and beautiful design ; harness for chariot 
and horses ; dishes, basins, scales and weights, bolts and 
locks, tankards and drinking-cups. 

There was a curious collection of Etruscan mirrors of 
polished metal adorned with inscriptions, images of gods 
and heroes, and scenes of practical life. There are one 
hundred and forty of these mirrors, and the workmanship 
upon some of them is elaborate and artistic. 

The Collection of Gems concludes the rooms devoted to 
the Antiquariiim. This was quite a collection in the seven- 
teenth centurj^ and was added largely to by Frederick the 
Great as well as his successors, so that now it contains over 



ANCIENT GEMS. 415 

five thousand specimens, of which more than one quarter 
are gems set in gold rings and medallions. 

The art of cutting precious stones reaches back to remote 
antiquity : the Hebrews were familiar with it, and, as is 
well known, the ancient Egyptians and Babylonians cut 
hieroglyphics into stones, or carved the scarabceus (sacred 
beetle) from stone, to wear as amulets ; and among the 
Greeks it was a cultivated art, attaining its highest perfec- 
tion in the time of Alexander the Great, and in his reign and 
those of his successors, gems were worn as ornaments. 

The rarest of the ancient gems in this collection are 
exhibited in glass cases, and others are kept in presses 
which are accessible to the student or antiquarian who may 
desire to examine them. They are divided into various 
classes. First is the Egyptian or Oriental style, from the 
finest period of Egyptian art down to a. d. 300, and com- 
mencing with an excellent cutting of a sacred falcon, with 
Osiris' crown cut in sardonyx, and including cuttings in 
agate, carnelian, and jasper. Then came Grecian and 
Etruscan gems, among which were cuttings in carnelian of 
Cadmus fighting the Dragon, and Neptune and his Dolphins 
in amethyst. Then the Greek and Roman gods ; cuttings 
dating from three hundred years before to three hundred 
after Christ, including a splendid head of Jupiter in car- 
nelian, head of Ceres in agate onyx — ActEeon surprising 
the bathing Diana, Genius of Youth in lapis-lazuli. There 
were also other classifications, including representations 
of Greek and Roman heroes, historical representations, 
•animals, &c. 

In the collection of antique cameos was an onyx eight and 
a half inches long and seven broad, on which was cut an 
apotheosis of the Emperor Septimius Severus, and which was 
purchased for this collection for nine thousand dollars. 
Another onyx, illustrating the birth of one of the Csesars, 
found in a Roman tomb near Cologne, was sold by the 
finder to a German jeweller for about seventy-five cents (our 



416 ANTIQUE COINS. 

money), but the king subsequently caused him to be paid 
one thousand dollars for it. 

In the Hall of Gems, the antiquarian or numismatist will 
have a rich treat in the inspection of the Collection of Coins, 
which number nearly one hundred thousand, in gold, silver, 
and copper. Of these, forty thousand are antique pieces, 
principally Greek and Roman coins, the Greek coins being 
arranged geographically and the Roman ones chronolog- 
ically. The visitor who desires to inspect intelligently this 
collection of gems, vases, or indeed any of the treasures of 
the Antiquarium, will find it necessary to purchase one 
of the little local guide-books, translated into English, as 
the regular guide-books give scarcely any particulars of the 
different objects, passing them by as "a, suite of rooms 
containing terra-cottas and vases," " bronzes, weapons, 
statuettes, and domestic utensils of the Greeks and Romans," 
" Cabinet of coins and collections of gems," 

The reader, if at all enthusiastic in any of these different 
branches of antiques, may form some idea of the priceless 
value as well as the great interest of the collection from the 
few prominent objects hastily made note of by the author in 
passing. That which is but apparently a collection of 
rudely cut pebbles becomes of absorbing interest when a 
descriptive catalogue spreads them out as the seal-rings 
of the Pharaohs and the ornaments of Roman emperors and 
Grecian warriors ; and the battered discs of copper, gold, 
and silver, which might have been hastily passed or never 
sought out, we look upon with curiosity as the early bronze 
circulating medium of ancient Rome, the gold of Greece, or 
the golden money of the Roman empire. 

Many of the earlier coins in the numismatic collection are 
stamped with simple emblems, and at a later period with 
representations of the gods, and finally with efiigies of the 
kings or emperors. Alexander the Great was the first 
among the Greeks who stamped his own effigy on the coins, 
and Julius Cgesar the first anions the Romans. 



A TREAT FOR A NUMISMATIST. 417 

Among' the oldest European moneys exhibited here are 
the coins of Etruria, Spain, and Italy ; coins of the tyrant 
Iliero 11. of Syracuse, who reigned two hundred and 
fifty years before Christ ; a fine collection of Grecian gold 
and silver coins stamped with the effigies of the Macedonian 
kings, such as Philip II. and Alexander the Great; and one 
with the head of Mithridates VI. upon it. A collection of 
curious Indian coins is shown, dating two hundred years 
before Christ; also Persian royal coins, and Egyptian. 

The collection of Roman coins is particularly rich and 
interesting. The most ancient Roman coin is the " as," 
which was rpade as early as the reign of Servius Tullius, 
five hundred and forty-six years before Christ ; and of this 
coin, which is in bronze, there are three or four ; also two or 
three specimens of the half as; then came the coins — gold, 
silver, and bronze — of the Roman Republic, over one hundred 
different specimens, stamped with representations of gods 
and heroes. Then a magnificent collection of imperial 
Roman coins, three hundred and seventy-five in number, 
stamped with the effigies of the emperors and their relatives. 
The series begins with coins of the reign of Julius Caesar, 
and terminates with those of Constantino XIV. in 1453. 

In addition to these there are coins of the Middle Ages 
and modern times ; a collection of six thousand specimens 
of Oriental coins, including Mohammedan, Chinese, and 
Japanese specimens ; and a collection of seven thousand 
medals, which I will not fatigue the reader with more special 
description of. Sufficient allusion to this department of the 
Museum has been made to indicate to the visitor interested 
in the objects mentioned what he might perhaps otherwise 
pass by unnoticed, but which he may see very thoroughly 
on application to the custodian, many of the coins being 
only accessible in that manner. The same is the case with 
a portion of the Collection of Gems. 

Another picture-gallery journey is now before the visitor, 
but the collection, although a very fine one, is not equal to 
27 



418 PICTURE GALLERIES OP BERLIN". 

several other great galleries in Europe, and is often rather 
hastily passed over by American visitors. The gallery in 
the Old Museum, which is upon the upper floor, and entered 
from the rotunda, is divided into thirty-seven apartments, and 
the classified into different schools of art. Thus, we have 
Italian schools — first, those of the fifteenth century (epoch 
of culture) ; and this includes the Lombardian, Tuscan, 
Bolognian, and Umbrian schools. Then the Italian schools 
from 1500 to 1550 (to the " highest bloom " of the art, as 
they specify it) ; then from 1550 to 1590 (epoch of decay) ; 
then from 1590 to 1710 (" after bloom and decay"). The 
Dutch, German, and Netherland schools are similarly ar- 
ranged. 

After one becomes familiar with picture galleries and art 
collections abroad, he will be continually finding reproduc- 
tions of old acquaintances in the way of statues, pictures, 
and celebrated works of art. Thus, upon entering the great 
rotunda here, he will find hung upon the walls the familiar 
scenes of Raphael's cartoons which he has seen upon the 
famous tapestry in the Vatican, if he has visited Rome, and 
also again at Dresden. This tapestry, however, is cele- 
brated as having been woven at Arras in the sixteenth cen- 
tury, for that royal butcher, Henry VIII., and has beeu 
in the possession of the Emperor Charles I. and also the 
Dukes of Alva, and was bought by Frederick William IV. 
for this collection in 1844. 

Passing from the rotunda to the different rooms, we see 
in the first room the Venetian pictures, the best one be- 
ing that of the bodj' of Christ, supported by two weeping 
angels. The pictures in the first room are principally re- 
ligious subjects. Through second, third, fourth, and fifth 
rooms you see Madonnas, saints, and virgins till you tire of 
them ; and, at the sixth, you come to pictures by Titian, the 
most beautiful being the portrait of his daughter Lavinia. 
Chess Plaj^ers, and a Venus, by Bordonne, in this room, 
are beautiful works ; but the other succeeding roonis are 



A WEALTH OF ART. 419 

prodigal in sacred subjects, including a Madonna, by Cor- 
reg-g-io ; Adoration of Shepherds, by Ferrari ; Madonna and 
Child, by Raphael ; and a beautiful picture of John the Bap- 
tist in the Desert, by Salviati, painted in the sixteenth cen- 
tury. In tlie seventeenth room I found a landscape, by 
Claude Lorraine ; Spanish Woman, by Murillo ; Shipwreck, 
by Salvator Rosa ; A Girl, by Greuze, and The Entomb- 
ment, by Caravaggio, 

What is considered the great work in the collection in the 
Old Museum are twelve paintings on six panels, which were 
executed for two distinguished families for an altar-piece in 
their chapel in the Church of St, John, at Ghent, by John 
Van Eyck and Hans Holbein, pupils of Albrecht Diirer. 
These panels are interesting as having a story. There were 
thirteen of them originally, and they were stolen from the 
church by the French ; the six that are here were pur- 
chased of a dealer, into whose hands they fell, for one hun- 
dred thousand thalers, or about seventy-five thousand dollars 
of our money. The pictures represent the just Judges, the 
Champions of Christ, singing and playing angels, hermits, 
and pilgrims. When this altar-piece is closed, the pictures 
upon the reversed side, which are equally beautiful, are 
presented. 

There are in this gallery of the Old Museum over twelve 
hundred specimens of pictures ; and an indication of its 
value may be inferred from the fact that it contains, besides 
the works of artists already mentioned, specimens of those 
of Snyder, — Combat of Bear and Dogs ; Ruysdael's land- 
scapes and sea-pieces ; Tenier's Peasants at Cards, and 
Temptation of Anthony ; Cuyp's landscapes; Gerard Duow's 
beautifully finished figures ; Rubens's Three Cavaliers ; por- 
traits, &c., — Van Dycks, Jean Mabeuse, Hans Holbein, and 
Wouverraans. 

Leaving the Old Museum, yon pass through a passage, or 
sort of arcade, which connects it Avith the new structure, 
and find yourself in a grand, lofty, circular saloon, called 



420 kaflbach's feescos. 

the Roman Cupola Saloon, which is elog-tfntly decorated 
with large fresco paintings, the two principal of which arc 
the Subjugation of Wittekind, King of the Saxons, by 
Charlemagne, and the adoption of Christianity as the re- 
ligion of the state. These give you an introduction to Kaul- 
bach's grand artistic creations (with which the visitor will 
soon be better acquainted), they being painted, after de- 
signs by the great artist, by Graf and Stilke, and are filled 
with spirited figures illustrative of their subjects, 

Passing from here, we enter the Mediaeval Saloon, an 
apartment with nine cupolas, and decorated with portraits 
of the German Emperors, each surrounded with four- 
cornered pictures, repi'esenting German cities. This saloon 
contains casts of celebrated sculpture decorations in Eu- 
ropean churches of the time of the Middle Ages ; and from 
it we enter what is called the Modern Art Saloon, the ceil- 
ing of which is elegantly decorated with fresco paintings, 
representing Industry and Trade, as the art of engine-build- 
ing, forging iron and weapons, mining, painting, sculpture, 
commerce, agriculture. 

We now come opposite the grand staircase of the New 
Museum, which occupies the entire height of the building, 
and is one hundred and thirty-two feet in depth, — a magnifi- 
cent piete of work. A single flight of stairs, of Silesian 
marble, leads from the ground-floor to the first story, and 
then a double one from the first to the second story. 

The copy of Old Father Nile (original at the Vatican), 
in the vestibule, the grand figures of the horse-tamers, and 
the four Caryatides, where the double staircases join, tend 
to give additional effect to this grand hall ; but its chief .and 
great attraction are the magnificent frescos, or mural paint- 
. ings, designed by Kaulbach, which adorn it. These celebrated 
tableaux consist of six grand principal ones, filled with life- 
size figures, illustrating great epochs in history ; and about 
them, in the intermediate spaces, are sixteen other pictures, 
the whole being surrounded by graceful allegorical ara- 



AGE OF THE EEFORMATION. 421 

besque, or frieze, also designed by Kaulbach, exhibiting 
the history and culture of mankind from Chaos to Humboldt. 

These magnificent works of art, although modern, fairly 
rival some of the grandest works of the old masters : most 
of them are already quite familiar to Americans, from the 
excellent reproductions we have of them in engravings ; 
but, to get the full eflect of the artist's work, it is almost 
needless for me to say one should look upon tlie original 
pictures in this grand hall. 

There is the familiar one of the " Age of the Reforma- 
tion," with the noble central figure of Luther standing upon 
the topmost step of the altar, lifting with both hands his 
translation of the Bible high above his head. Near b}^ is Cal- 
vin, also Zwingle, the reformer of Switzerland ; and at differ- 
ent points in the great picture are Gustavus Adolphus, king 
of Sweden, in full armor ; William of Orange, and Admiral 
Coligny (slain on St. Bartholomew's day) ; Wickliffb ; Queen 
Elizabeth ; Archbishop Cranmer ; Copernicus, expounding his 
system ; Galileo ; Tycho Brahe, disputing with Kepler ; John 
Gutteuberg, holding his first printed sheet ; Columbus, with 
his hand on the globe ; Leonardo da Vinci ; Shakspeare ; 
Cervantes ; Michael Angelo ; and others, — all being por- 
traits of celebrated persons of the fifteenth and sixteenth 
centuries, who contributed in any way towards the great 
movement of the Reformation, and forming a splendid pic- 
torial historical group. 

" The Crusaders before Jerusalem " gives that stanch old 
warrior of the Cross, Geoff'rey de Bouillon, as King of Jeru- 
salem, mounted upon his white charger, holding forward the 
crown of Jerusalem to the vision of Christ and the saints in 
the heavens, while he places the crown of thorns upon his 
own head. The friar, Peter of Amiens, kneeling, stretches 
his hands towards the heavenly group ; slain Saracens, that 
have fallen before the crusaders' weapons, are upon the 
ground. Tancred and other knights, singers and minstrels, 
make up the composition. 



422 TOWEE OF BABEL. 

The most classical and allegorical of the paintings is that 
of " Homer and the Greeks." The poet standing upright, 
lyre in hand, in a barge rowed by the Sibyl, is approaching 
the coast of Greece. Thetis and the Nereids are rising 
from the waves about his bai'k to listen to his singing ; and 
on the shore are assembled Grecian artists, sculptors, ora- 
tors, and poets, to welcome his coming, — ^schylus, Sopho- 
cles, and Euripides. In the foreground, on the beach, are 
Pericles and his pupil Alcibiades ; behind stands Solon, 
with his law tablets. At the left is the Parthenon, in course 
of erection. Above, upon a rainbow in the clouds, ai*e 
gods and goddesses of mythology, — Jupiter and Juno en- 
throned, Apollo, and the Three Graces. Beneath, the smoke 
from a sacrificial altar ascends to these deities, and around 
the altar a group of Grecian youths are dancing. Phidias, 
engaged in sculpturing the statue of Achilles, and other 
figures, make up the grouping of this great fresco. 

The " Destruction of the Tower of Babel " is a grand 
work, where, from the clouds above, Jehovah is represented 
as looking down upon the ruin of Nimrod's Tower. 
The king himself sits upon his throne, defying the mightier 
Power, despite the pleadings of his wife, who clings to his 
knees. Idols are tumbling from their pedestals, the slaves 
of the Tower rising in rebellion and stoning their masters ; 
the great Tower stands unfinished. Separated into three 
great divisions, the races emigrate, — the races of Shem, 
Ham, and Japheth. The tribe of Shem drives away its 
flocks, and is blessed by its patriarch, who stands with out- 
stretched arms. The tribe of Ham represents the African 
races ; and their priest, riding upon a buffalo, embraces his 
idol, while a woman kisses the hem of his garment. The 
Japhethites, founders of the Caucasian race, ride away on 
fiery horses, the first rider being said to represent the Hel- 
lenes, and the second the Germans. 

The " Destruction of Jerusalem '' is a familiar picture to- 
day in the windows of our print-shops, — the tall, central 



BATTLE OF THE HUPfS. 423 

figure, the high-priest, piercing his bosom with a dagger, 
with his wife and children at liis feet, entreating a like fate 
lest they should fall into the hands of the Roman conquerors. 

The prophets who propliesied the destruction of Jerusa- 
lem are seen in the clouds above, looking down upon Titus 
and his legions, who are entering into the sacred city, 
whose burning temple and crumbling ruins show that the 
destruction foretold has begun ; while the flying Jews, frantic 
women, helpless children, and priests, the wandering Jew 
starting forth on his endless journey, go to make up the 
grand effects of the picture. 

The other great fresco is the spectral Battle of the Huns, 
and exhibits a splendidly grouped collection of figures in 
vigorous action, designed as an allegorical representation 
of Paganism against Christianity. Rome is seen in the back- 
ground ; in the foreground is the battie-scene designed to 
represent the spot where the devastating hordes met their 
first repulse at the battle of Chalons-sur-Marne, where the 
battle was so fierce that, as the legend runs, the dead rose 
in the night to continue it ; and it is this scene the artist 
has represented. Warriors are arising, groping for and 
seizing their weapons ; in the clouds above, upon a shield 
supported by his soldiers, is Attila, king of the Iluns, " the 
scourge of God," brandishing his scourge in encouragement 
to his troops, while the Christians rally round the Cross, as 
their sacred symbol, or under the leadership of Theodoric, 
king of the Visigoths, rush bravely to battle with their 
fierce opponents. This grand battle-scene is thought by 
many to be the finest of the series ; it may be for spirited 
action in the representation of the figures, but for quiet, 
satisfactory study, "Homer and the Greeks," and "The 
Age of the Reformation," will divide the student's attention. 

Each one of these mural paintings about the grand stair- 
case hall is surrounded by appropriate marginal paintings of 
small dimensions. That of the Destruction of Jerusalem 
has scenes from Jewish and Roman history ; that of the 



424 THE GEEEK SALOOIf. 

Battle of the Huns, scenes from Northern and Oriental my- 
thology, &c. This superb approach to the interior of tlie 
New Museum is remarkably beautiful and appropriate, both 
in point of art and architecture. 

I have referred to the Roman Cupola, mediseval and mod- 
ern art saloons passed through on the route to the grand 
staircase. There are upon this same floor nine other halls 
devoted to the collection of casts of celebrated objects of 
antiquity. These halls are named from the nature of their 
contents : as the Niobe Saloon, which contains the group of 
the children of Niobe, taken from the tympanum of a temple 
of Apollo. This hall is superbly frescoed with Grecian bat- 
tle and mythological scenes, and among its most prominent 
contents are copies of the Dying Gladiator, the Fighting 
Gladiator, and Quoit-Thrower, besides other copies which 
we linger over a few moments, as they serve more vividly to 
bring up the great originals before us. 

Another saloon, known as the Greek Saloon, is rich in 
frescos, and contains ten fine wall paintings : such as a rep- 
resentation of Ancient Athens, the Acropolis, Sacred Griive 
at Olympia, Temple of Apollo, &c., which will bring back 
memories of school days and school studies in which the 
imagination had to paint these scenes, while the brain 
puzzled out the construction of the sentences that described 
them. This hall contains groups from the Temple of Miner- 
va at ^gina, and sculptures from the Parthenon at Athens. 
A saloon known as the Greek Cupola Saloon is adorned 
with wall-paintings of Perseus rescuing Andromache, The- 
seus killing the Minotaur, and Hercules seizing the Arca- 
dian Stag, and contains casts of Grecian statuary and other 
sculpture of an interesting character, 

The visitor who has not made the grand tour, or visited 
the galleries of Rome and Florence, will go through these 
twelve apartments with more interest than he who has ; but 
the latter should on ho account omit them, as they contain 
very many extremely rare and beautiful objects, the collec- 
tion being augmented each year. 



UXKNOWN ANTIQUITIES. 425 

Instead of ascending the grand staircase, which I have 
brought the reader before for the purpose of viewing Kaul- 
bach's cartoons, we will descend to the ground floor for the 
purpose of inspecting the Ilall of Northern Antiquities and 
Ethnographical Collection. The former hall is decorated 
with frescos of the gods and goddesses of northern mythol- 
ogy : Odin on his throne, and his wife Hertha, the northern 
Juno, coming down to earth in a chariot drawn by cows, 
scattering flowers and fruits in her pathway ; Frey, the god 
of gayety, riding on a boar ; Thor, god of thunder, 
flourishing his mighty hammer in a chariot drawn by goats. 
These paintings are on the walls on both sides of the hall 
and over the windows, and represent the principal points 
of northern mythology as laid down in the Icelandic Book of 
Heroes. 

Starting from the entrance, the figures on the visitor's left 
hand represent the gods of Darkness and Night, and those on 
the right the gods of Light. The antiquities contained in this 
hall are of the stone, bronze, and iron periods, and such as 
have been found from time to time, I should judge, in and 
about Prussia or Germany, for the collection was not, at the 
time of the author's visit, either properly catalogued, num- 
bered, or labelled ; and, although the guide-book gives but 
four lines to it, that is not always to be taken as an indica- 
tion of a lack of importance or interest, in any gallery col- 
lection, locality, or sight abroad, as the readers of these 
pages have learned ere this. However, all we could ascer- 
tain was that the urns and ash-bowls on one stand were 
antiquities found at Altmark ; another was found near 
Berlin ; a collection of little pitchers (without long ears) 
was dug out in the Rhenish provinces. But a lot of vases, 
weapons, helmets, bracelets, battle-hammers, and household 
utensils, although carefully labelled with Dutch-looking 
characters as to where they were found, needed an antiqua- 
rian or expert to explain, to give most of them interest be- 
yond that which otherwise would attach to a collection of 
old trash from household dust heaps. 



426 EGYPTIAN REPRODUCTIONS. 

The Ethnographical Collection is a collection of articles 
illustrative of the life, customs, and products of different 
nations, and is divided into five sections, Europe, America, 
Asia, Africa, and Australia. The American specimens are 
some of Catlin's Indian paiiitings, Indian weapons, garments, 
buffalo hides, moccasins, bows and arrows, porcupine quills, 
embroidery, and similar objects familiar to all Americans. 
A show of Peruvian relics, weapons, and utensils of Mexi- 
can and South American Indians and ancient inhabitants, is 
the South American portion. The Asiatic department con- 
tains the Chinese, Japanese, and East Indian curiosities 
with which all are familiar ; and the African, the rhinoceros- 
hide shields, long spears, poisoned arrows, gourds, cala- 
bashes, carved clubs and paddles, and other objects that 
the African travellers tell about, and so on, — a collection 
of no great merit or interest compared with others we have 
to see. 

The Berlin Museum, like others, has drawn on the 
oldest nation on earth for a portion of its attractions, and 
with no small degree of success, for the Egyptian Collection 
is quite an interesting one, and, moreover, the reproduction 
of ancient Egyptian architecture in the arrangement of the 
different halls, and the illustrative frescos upon the walls, 
heightens the effect. They also contribute a certain degree 
of instruction as good reproductions and illustrations of the 
subject. 

The outer court or grand entrance to this Egyptian 
Museum is a faithful rejDresentation, on a reduced scale, of 
the Egyptian temple at Karnak. It is called the Colonnade 
Court in the guide-books, from sixteen pillars which sur- 
round it, which are also reductions of the pillars at Karnak. 
Above, on the ornamented cornice, is recorded by a modern 
Eg3'ptian scholar. Professor Lepsius, in ancient Egyptian 
hieroglyphics, the fact that these monuments were ar- 
ranged b}' Frederick William IV., in 1848. Done into Eng- 
glish, the translation is as follows : — 



A MONARCH 1200 B. C. 427 

"The Royal Sun Eagle, the Avenger of Prussia, Sun of 
Son, Frederick William IV., Philopator (the father lover), 
Euergetes (benefactor), Eucharistes (the gracious), loved by 
Tot and Saf, the Victorious Master of tlie Khine and Vistula, 
the Elect of Gormania, has caused to be erected in this 
edifice colossal figures, effigies, statues, and sculptures, 
stones, pillars, coffins, and many other good things brought 
from Egyi^t and Ethiopia." 

In the centre of tliis atrium stands an altar, and on the 
right and left of it are two colossal ram sphinxes, with the 
sun disc between the horns ; and farther on, at the continua- 
tion of the entrance hall at each side of the hypostyles, are 
two colossal seated figures in black porplij^ry : Rameses II., 
and another whose name I do not give, as, with the excep- 
tion of his right leg and throne, he is entirely a restoration ; 
while Rameses, or Sesostris, as he is sometimes called, who 
sits at the left, is the original sculpture of Egyptian chisels, 
with the exception of the beard and right hand, which 
have been restored. His name is inscribed upon his breast 
and throne. He reigned twelve hundred years before Christ. 

All around the walls of this hall are stone tablets, found in 
the tombs of Memphis, which are adorned with hieroglyph- 
ical sculptures of religious and funereal rites, &c. The 
apartment also contains fine wall-paintings, for which the 
Berlin Museum is so famous. These were executed princi- 
pally by celebrated German artists, and represent the grand 
works of architecture of the ancient Egyptians, such as the 
Memnon Statue at Thebes, Great Pyramids of Memphit*, 
the Temple at Karnak, the Temple at Edfu, Temple in the 
Isle of Phylse, and other scenes familiar to Eastern travel- 
lers and readers of books of Eastern travel. The ceiling 
is beautifully decorated with astronomical frescos. 

The front of the hypostyle (covered colonnade) repre- 
sents the doorway of the Temple of Rameses II., afc Thebes ; 
at its end, facing the visitor, is the colossal figure of King 
Ilorus. This apartment contains a curious and valuable 



428 EGYPTIAK HISTORICAL HALLS. 

collection of papyrus rolls found with mummies, which are 
decorated with pictorial representations inscribed with 
hieroglyphics, prayers, and other inscriptions. Here, also, 
are bricks made from Nile mud, and stamped"with the name 
of the king in whose reign they were manufactured — a good 
way of handing one's name down to posterity. 

We now enter what is known as the Historical Hall, a 
large saloon, with its walls decorated with paintings in 
imitation of the Egyptian wall-paintings, and representing 
battles, ceremonies, customs, hunting scenes, and historical 
events of that ancient people. Above the wall-paintings 
there is a frieze of medallions containing the names of the 
ancient Egyptian kings, from a very ancient one down to 
the Caesars. In this hall are numerous glass cases contain- 
ing ancient Egyptian amulets, gems, rings, bodkins, domes- 
tic utensils, and trinkets ; also mummies of animals, birds, 
and crocodiles, heads, arms, and other fragments of human 
mummies, besides monumental stones and ancient sculpture. 

A still more ancient collection is that shown in the Hall 
of Tombs, which contains monumental remains brought to 
Berlin by the Egyptian scholar before mentioned, Professor 
Lepsius, and which date from two to three thousand years 
before Christ. Here were twq huge granite blocks, used for 
indicating the height of the river Nile, which were two thou- 
sand 3'ears old ; an ornamental stone sarcophagus of double 
that age ; fragments of tombs whose inscriptions prove them 
to have belonged to the time of King Cheops ; stone tombs 
that have been restored, giving the visitor an idea of the 
ancient method of sepulture ; and hieroglyphical tablets and 
stones sculptured with scenes of Egyptian life. 

The Mythological Saloon is so called from its mural 
decorations representing the mythology of the ancient 
Egyptians, and the ceiling paintings representing month 
gods, zodiac, and constellations, and contains a rich collec- 
tion of sarcophagi and mummies. At the right and left of 
the entrance sit statues of a lion-headed goddess ; and the 



"IN" THEBES STREETS 3000 TEARS AGO." 429 

first sarcophag-us we inspected was one of granite, the lid 
being- a sculptured representation of the deceased. Then 
we came to a well-preserved mummy, which is kept in a 
glass case. It is that of a young girl, who, the inscription 
says, was named llathor, and beside it is the sycamore 
coflSn in which she was found inclosed. Among other 
interesting sarcophagi was a fine one of black porphyry, 
which had inclosed a famous Egyptian general named 
Pelisis, and another in granite of one named Nechtnif, whose 
commands had fought, bled, and died, as well as them- 
eelves, almost before, 

" Antiquity appears to have begun." 

Of the mummies, the two most interesting are that of one 
unrolled showing its armlets of gold, as when laid in the 
tomb, and another which was in a wooden sarcophagus. 
This sarcophagus was found at the Necropolis at Thebes, in 
1822, and its occupant was a high-priest; and ranged 
round it are objects also found in the tomb, such as his 
staffs of office, offerings for the dead, representations of an- 
cient Nile boats, which give us the view of the ancient 
navigation of the river four thousand years ago, that being 
the age of this sarcophagus and the objects that surround it. 

Leaving the antiquities of old Egypt, we ascend to a series 
of five rooms, to which the guidebook gives three lines 
each, as containing " smaller works of art." Access is had 
to this portion of the Museum via the grand staircase and 
through a hall upheld by caryatides. The first apartment 
contains models, artistic and curious furniture, &c., which 
is displayed in four large and elegant glass cases. The 
models of celebrated buildings are finely executed, and must 
be especially interesting to a student of architecture. 
Among the most prominent were models of the convent 
church at Ratisbon, Cathedral at Freiburg, St. Isaac's Church, 
St. Petersburg, Pulpit for Cologne Cathedral, and the prin- 
cipal entrance to Strasburg Cathedral. 

Among the curiosities of furniture, «&;c,, we were shown 



430 PETJSSIAN HISTOKICAL RELICS. 

the camp-chair used by Gustavus Adolphus, King of Swe- 
den, at the battle of Liitzen ; a cupboard that beh)nged to 
Melancthon ; the last will of Frederick William III., wrought 
in silk ; arm-chair of the time of Frederick the Great ; and 
various elaborate and elegant articles of furniture, — among 
which was an elegant artistical cabinet in the form of a 
temple, with spiral pillars ; an old church-pew of boxwood, 
with the figures of Faith, Love, Hope, and Patience carved 
upon it ; cabinets of ebony and silver ; curious old 
looking-glass frames that were elegantly wrought and 
carved ; and a splendid cabinet of ebony and silver, which 
was made for Phillip, Duke of Pomerania, at Augsburg, in 
161 T. This cabinet rested upon four silver griifins, and 
was five feet high by about three and one-half in breadth, 
and surmounted by a representation of Parnassus and the 
winged horse Pegasus. 

We next came to a niche which was rich in Prussian 
historical relics, which were excellently arranged for ex- 
hibition. The figures of Frederick the Great, King Fred- 
erick I., his father, and Frederick William I., his grand- 
father, known as the Great Elector, were represented by 
life-size figures, clad in the garments they wore while living. 
The custodian of this department, who was explaining to a 
large group of his countrymen, noticing our small party of 
foreign visitors outside the group, at once made way for us 
and invited us to a place of honor inside the guard-rail, 
that we might inspect closely and even handle some of the 
mementos of these great sovereigns ; — he was a shrewd 
exhibitor, and probably argued, and correctly, that his palm 
would be liberally crossed for such voluntary courtesy. 
The figures were all artistically modelled, and t'.e face of 
Frederick the Great was made from a cast of his face taken 
after death ; his figure was dressed in full military uniform 
formerly worn by him, upon the breast the star of the order 
of the Black Eagle, and by the side the sword worn in many 
of his most celebrated battles. The custodian brought to 



MEMENTOS OF FREDERICK THE GREAT. 431 

US the helmet, or iron battle-cap, worn by Frederick the 
Great's grandfather, — a hiig6 headpiece weighing twenty-one 
pounds, — and his great sword used at the battle of Fehrbellin, 
which was a weapon requiring a strength of muscle to wield 
that could bo furnished only by that which could support 
such a helmet. 

Among a curious collection of relics of Frederick Wil- 
liam I. was a lot of tobacco-pipes used in the celebrated 
Tobacco Parliament, where all smoked : the king's and his 
wife's betrothal rings, his walking-sticks, and sword. 

Among the relics of Frederick the Great were two crayon 
pictures made by him, his flute and sheet-music that he had 
to use by stealth when Crown Prince, under the tyrannical 
oppression of his half insane father, — some of the music 
sheets half consumed by fire, into which they had been 
thrust by his parent. 

Then here was his magnificent military dress uniform of 
blue velvet embroidered with silver, his watch, his playing- 
counters, elegant walking-sticks ornamented with tortoise- 
shell and diamonds, his decoration ribbon, cocked hat — as 
marked an article of wardrobe as that of Napoleon, — snuff- 
boxes, sword, and arm-chair. A collection of historic swords 
included that of Charles XII., the Lion of Sweden; that with 
which Count Hardeck was executed at Vienna in 1595 ; 
another that did similar duty upon the neck of Duke Nicho- 
las of Oppeln, in 1497 ; those of each of the Fredericks, of 
Prince Ludwig, of General Kleist, and other celebrated 
Prussians. 

An interesting display of relics of Napoleon Bonaparte 
consisted of articles which were captured in his carriage 
at Genaape by the Prussians, immediately after the battle 
of Waterloo ; among them were his pistols, portfolios, snuff- 
box, a hat, orders, and decorations. Two remarkable relics 
were the jasper sceptre of Charlemagne, and a box contain- 
ing a fragment of the standard of Pizarro, the conqueror of 
Peru, this latter being presented to the Museum by Hum- 
boldt. 



432 GLASS AND ENAMEL WOEK.' 

The saloon of majolica and glass contains a collection of 
that ware principally of the sixteenth and seventeenth centu- 
ries. Here we saw famous glasses of rub}^ hue ; others 
adorned with portraits of Gustavus Adolphus and the Great 
Elector; the goblet with which Frederick III. drank brother- 
hood with Peter the Great ; the clay drinking-jug of Martin 
Luther ; curiously ornamented tankards, glassware, and dec- 
orated porcelain. 

Then came a saloon of ecclesiastical works of art, in which 
were beautiful Byzantine crucifixes ; a magnificent wooden 
cross of open work, most elaborately wrought, by Albrecht 
Diirer, on which over a thousand figures are represented ; 
elegant altar ornaments ; beautiful relic boxes, richly orna- 
mented with precious stones ; crosiers, candlesticks, and 
other religious works of art of great beauty. The colored- 
glass windows of this room have some fine painting ; one 
window, the Kiss of Judas, dates about 1150, and another, 
Mary and John, about a hundred years later. 

The principal saloon for the exhibition of small works of 
art of the middle ages, and down to the present time, con- 
tained a large, interesting, and very beautiful collection. 
There are more than five thousand objects in all ; they are 
displayed in glass cases, over each of which is designated 
the century in which the objects in it were made. In one 
case was a magnificent collection of enamel works of exquisite 
design and finish ; a dish with a representation of Daphne 
pursued by Apollo ; medallions on which the combat of 
Satan and Michael was represented ; and Bacchanalian 
representations of the history of Dido; Christ before Pilate, 
Christ at the Cross, scenes in the History of Samson ; salt- 
cellars with the labors of Hercules, and candlesticks repre- 
senting the four seasons ; boxes, cups, and medallions, upon 
which portraits, allegories, mythological scenes, revels, and 
armorial bearings succeeded each other in elegant profusion. 

Next came a great case of the oldest carved works of 
wood and ivory from the sixth to the fifteenth century, and 



CURIOSITIES OF ART. 433 

containing' Oriental and German hunting-bugles of ivory, an 
ivory trinket box of the twelfth century, a book-cover with 
the life of Christ wrought upon it, an Oriental box of the 
eleventh century, &c. Other cases were equally rich in 
carious objects ; such as a crystal vase with scenes cut in 
the setting', and handle wrought in gold, by Benvenuto 
Cellini ; curious old watches, a set of the first manufactured, 
known as Nuremberg eggs ; a bowl of rock-crystal ; ostrich- 
eggs, and nautilus-shells as cups, richl}'^ ornamented. Amber 
work — a little spinning-wheel made of it — boxes, cabinets, 
and knife-handles ; a big silver gilt dish illustrated with 
scenes from the life of Moses ; a beautiful altar inlaid with 
amber. Coming down to the eighteenth century, numerous 
specimens of wood-carvings were exhibited, mosaics, gems, 
&c. One case contained a curious collection of weapons 
and musical instruments, hawks, hoods and bells for hawk- 
ing, crossbows and belts, hunting-knives, battle-axes, dag- 
gers, and swords, with curious and elaborate handles, one 
sword-handle representing a combat of centaurs. 

The Cabinet of Prints, or collection of engravings, which 
contain about half a million engravings and drawings in 
three rooms, is said to be admirably arranged for examina- 
tion, but it is only open to the public on Sundays. 

I must conclude my description of the Berlin Museum 
(which, lengthy as it is, has often from necessary condensa- 
tion become almost a catalogue) by brief reference to two 
collections yet unnoticed. First, the collection of plaster 
casts, which are in a gallery over the Egyptian outer court, 
entrance being had from the grand staircase hall bj' passing 
under one of the great staircases, and which contains casts 
of a great many of the most celebrated Egyptian monuments, 
as well as Assyrian and Grecian sculptures and antiquities. 

The second is a ver}' rich collection of silver Roman arti- 
cles found in excavating near flildesheim, which is in the 
Antiquarian Collection, but might not be seen unless inquired 
for. It is called the Silver Treasure, and consists of a com- 
28 



484 POTSDAM. 

plete set of Roman drinking-vessels supposed to have been 
buried by the Roman general Varus. There are over forty 
different pieces, comprising beautifully wrought goblets, a 
large water-kettle ornamented with cupids, three beautiful 
bowls adorned with masks, others with, bas-reliefs ; also 
smaller bowls, plates, salvers, pitchers, and vases, all of great 
beauty of workmanship, and interesting as examples of the 
artistic taste of the age in which they were made. 

Potsdam is by many styled the Versailles of Prussia, it 
being about twenty miles from Berlin, and its royal palaces 
and beautiful gardens especially built and laid out for the 
enjoyment of the royal family and court. Although a por- 
tion of it was done at a vast expense, especially the New 
Palace, as it is called, which was founded by Frederick the 
Great after the Seven Years' War in 1163, in order to show 
that his exchequer was by no means exhausted, the amount 
was a bagatelle compared to the millions which the Louises 
squandered in their luxurious profuseness at Versailles. 

The best way to see the sights of Potsdam, is to take a 
carriage and English-speaking valet cle jjlace ; which were at- 
tainable at the railway station in Potsdam at the time of the 
author's visit, and can generally be found there during the 
travelling season, when American and English tourists are 
likely to visit the place. 

The rooms of Frederick the Great in the Old Palace, a suite 
of three or four which he occupied before completing the 
New Palace, are interesting from the fact that they have not 
been remodelled or their condition changed since their illus- 
trious owner left them. One room contained a lot of old, 
torn, blue, silk-covered chairs, and a lounge, shabby enough 
indeed, but showing the condition to which the king had 
allowed his favorite dogs to reduce them. In fact, he was, 
if history does not belie him, more indulgent to his dogs 
than to his soldiers, for he had learned few lessons of for- 
bearance from the cruel and rigid military school in which 
he was educated. 



SANS SOUCI. 435 

Here also I paused to lay my hands upon the ink-stained 
writing-desk at which the monarch had written fc»r years ; 
and a square vacant place in the covering was pointed to 
us as a portion which had been cut away by Napoleon when 
he visited the place. Napoleon also took Frederick's sword, 
which formerly rested upon his sarcophagus in a vault beneath 
what is known as the Garrison Church, at Potsdam. 

Here also is the king's bookcase, with a collection of 
French and German works, and his hat, snuffbox, walking- 
sticks, sash, music composed by himself, the music-stand 
that he had used when a boy, probably at the time when his 
brutal, half insane old father, ascertaining that his son wrote 
verses and played the flute, called him into his presence and 
ordered his graceful flowing locks to be cut and soaped in 
the most rigid military style. 

The double-walled room, with the trap-door through which 
the table could be let down ready-set cTut with dinner for 
the king and those with whom he wished to dine privately, 
and his little sleeping-room, are objects of interest. The 
other apartments of the palace are such as I have frequently 
described, those most interesting being the ones occupied 
by Frederick William III. and Frederick William IV., which 
are kept as near as possible in the way that they were left. 
The garden near this palace, beautifully laid out, has numer- 
ous bronze statues and a big fountain, a great basin — a 
shell supporting Thetis and Neptune. The garden is a popu- 
lar resort on Sundays, when the fine military band plays there, 
and a grand dress-parade of the troops takes place. 

But the Park and Palace of Sans Souci wiW' probably most 
interest the visitor. The designation of this, " Free from 
Care," or, as Carlyle translated it rather freely, " No Bother," 
originated from a remark that Frederick made when con- 
templating the royal burial-place near by : " Here I shall be 
free from care." The great fountain in this park throws a 
stream one hundred and twenty feet in height, and is sur- 
rounded by mythological groups ; all around in the vicinity 



436 THE ORAISTGERY. 

are numerous other fountains, statuary groups, terraces, and 
beautiful parterres of brilliant flowers. A copy of Freder- 
ick's equestrian statue that stands in TJnler den Linden is 
here splendidly done in marble. 

Up a broad flight of marble steps sixty-six feet in height, 
and broken by six landings or terraces, we ascend to the dome- 
crowned palace above, the steps reminding us somewhat of 
the more magnificent stretch of similar ascent at the garden 
at Versailles. Like the other palace, the apartments here 
viewed with the greatest curiosity are those in which 
Frederick the Great lived, and where he died on the Hth of 
August, 1185. Frederick used three rooms for his private 
use — a reception-room, library, and sleeping-room. In the 
latter he slept on a small iron camp-bedstead. 

There was no admittance to the apartments during our 
visit, however, as the Queen Dowager was at home, and 
curiosity-seekers and tourists were excluded. We there- 
fore contented ourselves with a stroll through the Park, 
admiring some of its fine forest-trees, and noticing that it 
was not, as we say in America, " kept up " as is that at 
Versailles. 

I had seen so many original pictures in the great galleries 
of Europe, that I confess to but a hasty glance at the col- 
lection of copies of forty of the best of Raphael's produc- 
tions, in a beautiful modern-built building, over one thousand 
feet long, ornamented with niches and statuary on the out- 
side, and not far from the palace, styled "the Orangery," per- 
haps because there were no oranges there except some 
orange-trees that were set along outside in huge tubs. It 
is but justice to say, however, that the copies of paintings 
were excellent ones, and this part of the establishment, 
which was on the ground floor, and entered by doors from 
the garden walk, was freely open to visitors. 

A beautiful little reproduction of the Pantheon at Rome, 
which we were permitted to enter, in another part of the 
grounds, contained an elegant marble statue of Queen 



A MONUMENT OF JUSTICE. 437 

Louise, of which the king is said to have remarked that it 
was not his Louise, and al'terwards to have been more satis- 
fied with the same sculptor's (Raucii's) work at Charlotten- 
burg in the mausoleum previously described. A fine view 
is had down an avenue a mile in length, which crosses this 
park and terminates at one end with a triumphal arch, and 
at the other with an obelisk of red marble seventy-five feet 
high on a white marble pedestal. 

We did not forgot to go and look, while at Sans Souci, 
at the historical windmill so famous in story, 'which, when 
Frederick the Great was laying out the grounds, the obsti- 
nate owner sturdily refused to sell, and, on being sued by 
the king, beat him in a Pi'ussian court of justice, and the 
king had to alter his plans of the grounds, leaving the mill 
out. Frederick then turned the case to account by building 
a new large mill for the miller as " a monument of Prussian 
justice," which is the one that is shown to the traveller. 
The present king was, a few years ago, waited on by the 
descendant of the former owner, who had experienced heavy 
losses, and desired to sell the mill. The king inquired into 
his case, and finding his story correct, furnished him with 
means to defray all his debts, and kept the mill intact and 
standing as an historical memento. 

Babelsburg, but a short drive from Sans Souci, and a 
charming situation, was the residence of the present emperor 
while Prince Eegent, just before his accession to the throne, 
and is a sort of Norman castle-looking place, built of dark 
stone and surrounded by beautiful grounds. Small in ex- 
tent, but elegantly fitted up, it has a genuine home-like 
appearance, especially when we went into the king's writing- 
cabinet, where was his writing-table, crowded with docu- 
ments and plans, two or three atlases, and much-used blotting- 
paper, paper weights, a couple of not very tidy inkstands, 
a paper-knife in an uncut pamphlet, two or three German 
newspapers, and a London Times. It was for all the woi'ld 
like a railroad president's private office from which he had 



438 AN IKSIDE LOOK AT EOYALTT. 

Stepped out for a moment. The old lounge beliind the chair 
at the desk had a couple of much-used, half-rolled archi- 
tect's plans lying upon it, and a little piece of half-finished 
ornamental needlework that some visitor, perhaps his 
daughter, had carelessly thrown down there at her last 
visit and forgotten. 

In the king's chamber was his plain but comfortable camp 
bedstead, the coverlid surmounted by a Scotch plaid shawl ; 
and by its side a wooden arm-chair made by the Crown- 
Prince Fritz, it being the custom that all the princes shall 
learn some trade, and be able to personally produce some 
article of it. This chair was one of the products of Fritz's 
skill as a cabinet-maker ; and a specimen of the art-work 
of the Crown Princess, in the shape of a bust of her own 
cutting, stood upon the dressing-bureau, and a little sketch 
of her own painting was suspended on the wall. 

The views from the windows of all the apartments are 
most charming, and include fine reaches of scenery through 
the dense foliage to Sans Souci and Potsdam, or take in, 
after a sweep of charming lawn, the beautiful Marble Palace 
in the distance. 

The rooms of the Princess Imperial, who, it will be 
remembered, is Victoria, eldest daughter of the English 
queen, had a most charming and home-like appearance, 
unlike many other residences of royalty I had previously 
visited. Here was a charming sitting-room, elegantly fitted 
up, just such as an ordinarily wealthy person in England or 
America would have ; a few choice pictures on the wall, 
two or three English magazines, among them Temple Bar, 
and a copy of London Punch on the table, and on a little 
tier of book-shelves a set of the old Token and Oriental 
Annual, which are so familiar as gift-books of thirty years 
ago. The disposition of the little flower-vases, arm-chairs, and 
other furniture had a decidedly English and American appear- 
ance, and the passing breeze that swept into the room was 
laden with fragrance of the flower-beds, upon one of which, 



THE FIVE PALACES. 439 

as we looked from the casement, we discovered the name 
Victoria growing in gayly-colored flowers. 

Tlie beautiful Gothic dining-room entrance-hall, with its 
antlers, skins, — trophies of the chase, — the quiet, exqui- 
site taste with which the various rooms were furnished with 
fine modern paintings, statuettes, and pretty vases, all sug- 
gested the residence of a gentleman of fortune and good 
taste, and was certainly a home, with home surroundings 
that ought to contribute to the comfort of its possessors, if 
any ease can come to " the head that wears a crown." 

The five palaces at Potsdam, and their beautiful sur- 
roundings, require much more time, to be seen thoroughly, 
than most tourists devote to them ; and American residents 
at Berlin, who have opportunity to ride out again and again 
on pleasure excursions in this direction, find fresh objects of 
interest, which cannot be taken in on the one day's race 
round in charge of a valet de place, as laid down in the 
guide-books. Our stay was all too short in what is known 
as the New Palace, a superb structure at one end of the 
magnificent avenue that runs through the whole length of 
the Park of Sans Souci. Tliis palace is said to contain two 
hundred difl^erent apartmentis. Those shown to visitors are 
magnificently decorated and richly furnished. 

In the apartments of Frederick the Great, his study-table, 
the manuscript of his writing in French, his library, and a 
sketch of the ugly visage of Voltaire drawn by him, and 
articles that he used when living, are interesting relics to 
visitors. Another attraction is a grand saloon, the walls 
of which are entirely composed of different ores, minerals, 
metals, stones, crystals, shells, &c., of every conceivable 
variety, the whole lighted b}' huge and elegant glass chan- 
deliers. They were arranged in the walls and ceilings in 
squares, rings, or diamonds, and very skilfully disposed. 
There were splendid specimens of copper ore in the rough, 
with here and there a bit of the rough mass polished ; rich, 
cut agate, semi-finished in the same manner ; sparkling, 



440 THEATRE AND PICTUEE GALLERIES. 

irregular masses of lead ; elegant figures formed of the 
delicately tinted tropical mussel shells ; jagged, irregular 
masses of iron pyrites; silver ore; the sombre coal, and 
its peacock-hued brother ; brilliant coral, with its ruby red ; 
and jet-black marble, contrasting with carnelian or por- 
phyry. The effect of this large and loftj^ hall, when 
flooded with light from the crystal chandeliers above, must 
be magnificent, and remind one of a fairy grotto or mer- 
maid's cavern. 

Among the other apartments in this New Palace is a 
handsome little theatre, very richly decorated, which will 
hold an audience of six hundred persons; the great mar- 
ble saloon, one hundred feet in length, so called for its 
being finished richly in that material ; and the great ball- 
room, elegantly decorated, in which are several choice pic- 
tures by Guido and other celebrated artists. The visitor 
who has not jet become fatigued with viewing the works 
of the great masters in the picture-galleries, will find sev- 
eral in the drawing and ante-rooms that are shown to the 
public in this palace, — such as the Adoration of the Magi, 
by Rubens ; a splendid Cleopatra, by Titian ; and Giordino's 
Rape of the Sabines, and Judgment of Paris. 

The palace kno,wn as the Marble Palace we contented 
ourselves with an external inspection of, and its beautiful 
grounds, known as the New Gardens ; and at the elog'ant 
country residence, near the Park of Sans Soiici, known as 
Charloitenhof, with a view of an adjoining structure, which 
is a reproduction of an ancient Roman bath-house, and con- 
tains a bath cut from jasper, and a beautiful marble group 
of Hebe and Ganymede ; the interior being elegantly dec- 
orated with frescos, in antique style, and with bronzes, 
some of which were brought from the ruins of Ilercu- 
laneum. 

We could only look at, and wish also that time would 
allow us to ascend, the grand dome of the beautiful church 
of St. Nicholas, and enjoy the view therefrom ; or to inspect 



BEBLIN TO HANOVER. 441 

the captured French battle-flags and eagles that hung as 
trophies about the walls of the Garrison Church ; but the 
descending sun, and the hour of the departure of the rail- 
road train, left no alternative but to drive rapidly past them 
on through the William Square, where stood Kiss's hand- 
some statue of Frederick William III., inscribed, " To the 
Father of his Country," — on to the railway station, from 
whence we were whirled back in the train to the Prussian 
capital. 

From Berlin to Hanover is about a four and a half 
hours' ride by rail. This city I made a halt at for a short 
rest previous to the long stretch of a whole day's journey 
by rail to Amsterdam. We reached this former capital of 
what was once the little Kingdom of Hanover, but is now 
a Prussian province, at about five in the afternoon ; and one 
hardly needs to be told in the guide-books that the city 
occupies a position at the junction of several important 
railwaj^s, as he is sure to ascertain if he stops at any of 
the principal hotels that surround the great open semi- 
circular space near the railway station. 

This Platz is itself a noisy and busy place, with passen- 
gers coming and going from hotel to station, the rush and 
rattle of numerous arriving and departing trains, and the 
steam-whistles of locomotives at all hours, rivalling some 
of our American cities, and rendering sleep somewhat of a 
difficult performance, unless one is proof against noise. 
Then again we arrived the night previous to a grand leather 
fair, and every hotel in the place was filled with leather- 
merchants, and the pavement in front of hotels, restaurants, 
and cafes was thronged with them, exhaling clouds of 
smoke from their pipes, and discussing business. This part 
of the city and the vicinity is, however, the more modern, 
best built, and most frequented by foreigners. 

Our investigations in Hanover were brief, and consisted 
first of a good look at a handsome equestrian statue of 



442 HOUSE OF LEIBNITZ. 

King Ernest Augustus, king of Hanover, in cavalry uni- 
form, in front of the railway station. We then took a 
stroll through some of the principal streets, almost at ran- 
dom. One of these rambles brought us into some romantic, 
quaint-looking old streets, near the market-place, where 
were a number of picturesque, Gothic-looking brick build- 
ings, which -we learned were of the time of the fifteenth and 
sixteenth centuries, and one, more curious than the rest, 
had a sort of projection jutting out from it, upon which 
were represented a number of Scriptural scenes. This a 
good-natured bystander, after some trouble, contrived to 
make us understand was the one we were seeking, the house 
of Leibnitz, the celebrated German scholar, who, it will be 
recollected, was one of the most remarkable specimens of 
universal scholarship on record, being eminent in languages, 
histor}'', divinity, political studies, experimental and me- 
chanical science, belles-lettres, and especially in philosophy, 
through which reputation chiefly, he lives in history. He 
was a native of Hanover, and died in 1716; and a mon- 
umental temple containing his bust is situated in the Wa- 
terloo Plaiz. His grave is in the Neustcidter Church, in the 
immediate vicinity of the Plaiz. Not far from here is a 
handsome old city hall, built in the Gothic style in 1439, 
and the Market Church, with a steeple or tower three hun- 
dred feet high. 

The palace here, which is situated on Lein Street, upon 
the banks of the river Lein, is not far from the principal 
square or park of the city, known as Waterloo Platz, which 
is handsomely laid out, its chief monument being the Wa- 
terloo Column, which is one hundred and fifty-six feet 
high, surmounted by a figure of Victory, erected in memory 
of the Hanoverians who fell at the battle of Waterloo. At 
the opposite end of this Plaiz stands the statue of General 
or Count Alten, who was the Hanoverian general at Water- 
loo, and died in 1840. Another fine statue is a colossal one 
of Schiller, situated on George's Square, which opens out 



A BEAUTIFUL DRIVE. 443 

of George's Street. This street, and Frederick Street, 
which opens out of Waterloo Square just described, are 
notably two of the finest streets in the city. On the latter 
is situated the theatre, said to be the finest in Germany. It 
will comfortably seat eighteen hundred persons, and the 
handsome portico is adorned with twelve statues of cel- 
ebrated authors and musical composers. 

A beautiful drive is that which is known as the road of 
the Avenue of Limes, from its being lined on both sides 
with trees of that description. This road leads to the 
Schloss Herrenhausen, or castle, which is noted as being a 
residence of three of the Georges, first, second, and fifth. 
The gardens, which are one hundred and twenty acres in 
extent, are elegantly laid out, but the buildings externally 
are quite plain and unpretending. Near here we were 
shown a large circular building with five towers, which is 
denominated the Tower of the Guelphs. This ride finished 
our day of rest, which was, on account of sight-seeing, 
postponed to the one succeeding, which was made literally 
so, as we resolutely abstained from further excursions next 
day, with the exception of an afternoon ride to the Zoologi- 
cal Garden, where, notwithstanding it was Sunday, there 
was an open-air instrumental concert. Tiie grounds are 
very prettily laid out, and the collection of animals and 
birds is a very good one. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Amsterdam ! Yes, we are in Holland, after nearly twelve 
hours of railroad journe}'', including stops, from Hanover. 
We passed Zutphen on our route, where Sir Philip Sidney 
received his mortal wound, — the scene of the story of his 
causing the attendants to give the wounded soldier the cup 



444 AMSTERDAM. 

of water before himself; through Arnhem, a beautiful town 
surrounded by elegant villas and gardens, where Sidney 
died ; to Utrecht, a bustling Dutch city, where we changed 
cars, and began to find everything around was wearing a 
decidedly Dutch look : quaint, antique brick houses and 
windmills came into view, and there was a general thrifty 
look to all the surrounding fertile fields. 

The railroad carriage into which we changed was one 
kept free from smokers, and the notice to that effect proved 
that the Dutch took more pains to promulgate the fact, and 
appreciated better that all travellers did not understand 
their language, than the railroad managers in many other 
countries we had passed through ; for the notice was in the 
following different dialects : 

Niet Rooken. 

Fur Nichtraucher. 

Defense de fumer ici. 

No Smoking Allowed. 

And this, in a land where nine-tenths of the male popu- 
lation are puffing like chimneys, is an appreciated boon to 
the non-inhalers of tobacco-smoke. 

As we approach Amsterdam, the great windmills for 
grinding grain and for draining the land, the long reaches 
of flat country, dikes and fertile plains that must have been 
once, or would be now, the bottoms of great lakes were not 
the land wrenched from the sea, — sleek black and white 
cattle, and now and then a canal-boat in the distance, — tell 
us that we are fairly in the Hollow Land. 

But a short distance from the railway station is the 
Amstel Hotel, a fine new building, constructed, as all 
the great hotels are getting to be in this age of steam and 
universal travelling, in modern style, and where travellers 
who have been annoyed and have experienced the discom- 
forts of short beds, and great stuffed, down coverlids for 
top-covering in the German country inns, and have thanked 
their stars, as has the author, that he always had a good 



DUTCH WINDMILLS. 445 

roll of Scotch shawls, will greet English beds, mosquito- 
nettings, liberal-sized washhand-stands, and other objects of 
familiar service to him, with decided satisfaction. 

Our spacious room looked directly out upon the river 
Amstel, along which and the adjacent canal we could descry 
a row of Don Quixote's giants, the windmills, and also 
every variety of Dutch treck-shuit, or canal-boat. Wind- 
mills are decidedly a Dutch institution, have been used for 
hundreds of years in Holland ; and some of those used 
for deep drainage, ranged along the side of a canal, with 
their huge revolving sails seen in the twilight against the 
sky red with sunset, are an imposing sight, and readily 
conjure up the simile of a long row of sentinel-like giants 
tossing up their huge arms in defiance. The smaller mills 
are cheaply made of wood like the little ones that wo 
frequently see in America ; but the larger, for drainage of 
land, or manufacturing purposes, have a substantial foun- 
dation of brick or stone, and on this stands the mill proper, 
covered with a heavy straw thatch, with its great hood and 
enormous arras, or sails, which sweep round a circle of over 
one hundred feet in diameter. 

Some of these run huge gangs of saws that saw great 
logs nearly two feet in diameter ; others are huge grain 
imills, — tlie runs of stone aboA^e, the granary storage-room, 
a stable, &c., being on the lower floor. The great pumping 
windmills will, in a fair wind, lift eight to ten thousand 
gallons of water per minute to the height of four feet. The 
foundation-story of these great pumping-mills is the habi- 
tation of the family whose head has charge of it ; and in- 
side is as charming and curious an old Dutch interior, with 
Dutch clock, brass-mounted presses, tiled fireplace, dark 
old dressers with quaint crockery, and old Dutcli claw-foot 
chairs, as one would wish to look upon. When the breeze 
is i'air, and you climb into the upper story, and hear the 
tremendous shudder which the great revolving wings com- 
municate to the huge structure as they infuse life and vigor 



446 DUTCH chaeactEieistics. 

to the great shaft or spindle that passes down through the 
mill like its spinal marrow, and whirls round three or four 
runs of heavy mill-stones, or keeps the great gang-saws in 
steady motion, or the big wheel at its foot in one unceasing 
rush of water-gathering, you will realize that a Dutch wind- 
mill is a mechanical contrivance not to be despised. 

The first walk or ride out in Amsterdam reveals to the 
visitor many quaint and curious scenes unlike those seen in 
any other European capital. Time has changed a great 
deal of that sleepy old romance which Washington Irving 
in his admirable sketches has thrown around everything 
Dutch, in the American mind. Though you are in the land 
of the Van Tromps, the Peter Stuyvesants, and the Wouter 
Van Twillers, you will look in vain for the steeple-crowned 
hats, the huge breeches, — ten broecks, ten breeches to a 
man, — or huge jackets, sleepy countenances, long clay 
pipes, and fat forms surrounded by leathern belts fastened 
with a big buckle, the small-clothes and resetted or buckled 
shoes of the old burghers who dozed away their lives, as 
described in Knickerbocker's Histoxy of New Netherlands. 

These, like the noble red man, the cocked hats and knee- 
breeches, live in the poetry of the past ; yet the buxom 
forms of the Dutch maidens, the stout ponderosity of the 
men, the quaint old architecture of the houses, reminding 
one of the old brass-ornamented high chests-of-drawers that 
belonged to his grandmother, the scrupulous cleanliness of 
everything, and withal the great deliberation which charac- 
terizes all transactions, show that many of the old Dutch 
characteristics remain. 

Some of the guide-books, as well as travellers who visit 
Amsterdam, are in the habit of styling it the Venice of 
Holland, or " Venice of the North," but the only similarity 
between the two cities is that both are built upon piles and 
are intersected by numerous canals. In Venice, however, 
a horse in the street would be almost as great a novelty as 
a Bengal tiger, and the busy squares or wide streets are the 



THE CANALS OF AMSTERDAM. 447 

exceptions, while in Amsterdam both are plentiful. Great 
paved streets are noisy with hng-c drays and rattling vehi- 
cles, and in many of the thorong-lifarcs you would not dream 
of the existence of the canals. The four grand canals are in 
the middle of very wide streets, with rows of trees, road- 
waj^s, and foot-passenger ways on cither side. These four 
are in concentric semicircles within the ramparts of the city, 
and are intersected by numerous others that run in every 
direction, the principal ones being bordered by handsome 
rows of houses and neat promenades. The grand principal 
canal, or great water avenue 1 might call it, down which I 
took a stroll, — the Heeren Graclit, — was four miles in 
length and shaded with beautiiul elm-trees. Another of 
these broad semicircular avenues, the Keizer^s Gracht, or 
King's, was one hundred and fifty feet in width, and a most 
elegant avenue. The lesser canals were, of course, the cross- 
water streets to these grand affairs, or short-cuts connecting 
one part of the city with the other ; and the whole are said 
to divide it into ninety islands connected together by three 
hundred bridges. 

The dissimilarity of Amsterdam to Venice is marked in 
the dreamy quiet of the latter, where no rattle of wheels or 
noise of traffic is heard, and where its light and graceful 
gondolas, tall marble palaces rising directly out of the 
water, its latticed iron bridges, and stillness that is broken 
rudely by a shout, the creak of cordage of a heavy craft, 
and general air of listlessness, contrast sharply with the roar 
and rattle of vehicles here ; the forests of masts on the 
river, and the stubbed, thickset-looking canal-boats on 
the canals, beside which a gondola would appear as a 
gazelle next an elephant ; in its great heavy warehouses 
filled full of merchandise, or the taking it in and out from 
luggers, or even great square-rigged ships, by means of 
huge, creaking cranes and hoisting-apparatus, and the solid 
character of the bridges, as well as the to me curious style 
of drawbridges. These bridges are attached by chains to a 



448 DRAWBRIDGES AND CANAL BOATS, 

heavy framework of wood or iron above, the two sides of the 
frame looking like the walking-beam of a steamboat-engine, 
but the machinery of it is so nicely balanced that one man, 
or, at the heavier bridges, two men, pulling downwards at 
the rope that hangs opposite the chains, may easily hoist the 
bridge for the passage of the boats. 

The necessity of these drawbridges npon nearly all the 
canals, arises from the fact that the Dutch canal-boats are 
all provided with masts and sails, and, unlike ours, depend 
upon the wind for propulsion, or, when that fails, the boat- 
men make slow progress by shoving their boats along with 
poles, or buckling themselves to the tow-rope. In the 
smaller family or market boats, it is not an uncommon sight 
to meet the woman with the loop of the tow-rope over her 
shoulders as she tugs along the tow-path, while the stout 
husband sits at the helm, steering the craft and comfortably 
smoking his pipe. 

These canal-boats are much shorter than ours, and are 
oiled instead of painted, and, as a general thing, kept scru- 
pulously neat, a large number of them being the constant 
residence of families who operate them. Some of the 
heavier description which I noticed, had their stern cabin- 
windows shaded with lace curtains drawn away with blue 
ribbon, and little vases of flowers set in the window-seat; 
while upon the deck, beneath the shade of a bit of canvas, 
sat the Dutch vroxo in spotless cap, gold head-band and 
pins, kirtle, short dress, and worsted stockings, knitting 
away industriously as she enjoyed the cool evening air. 

The varying crowd of canal-boats, with tlie loads of 
merchandise which they bring into the city ; the broad mas- 
culine figures of the peasant women, with funny head- 
dresses ; the lofty and narrow Dutch houses of red and 
yellow brick, with projecting gables, and sometimes sunk 
down at one side on account of the yielding nature of their 
foundation; the little shops where red-hot turf and boiling 
water are sold, the latter from shining copper tea-kettles ; 



PEASANT WOMEN. 449 

and withal the s{3ick-span cleanliness of everything, — are 
novelties that will be noticed by the tourist in his rambles 
about Amsterdam, 

I was interested in watching the boatloads of cheese and 
dairy products that came lazily floating down the canals, 
some of them guided by women, in short woollen dresses, 
long blue worsted stockings, wooden shoes, and curious 
head-dresses, who put their shoulders against the padded 
end of a long pushing-pole, and worked their boats into 
position with full as much ease as the men. Indeed, except 
for their lack of beards and difference in dress, one would 
see but little difference in their coarse and masculine fig- 
ures. The curious head-dress worn by the peasant women 
is a thin band of pure gold, two inches wide, that goes all 
round the head, and has side-pieces that come down at the 
temples back of the eyes, in the shape of rosettes or orna- 
ments ; and over this are placed layers of thin stuff" or 
muslin through which the precious metal shines. These 
head-dresses are one of the necessities, it seems, of every 
woman, though comparatively expensive affairs, the cheapest 
costing forty dollars, and the better ones nearly a hundred. 
The poorest of the peasants, who cannot get one of gold, 
wear one of silver, but never, I was told, of brass or gilt. 

The old Dutch houses in some of the more business-like 
quarters of the city are jammed together in picturesque con- 
fusion, and fairly bulge out with merchandise ; but around 
all is prevalent the Dutch characteristic of order and clean- 
liness, which forbids the accumulation of heaps of rubbish 
offensive to the eye or olfactories. The wharves that I 
visited, to my uneducated eye, looked as if swept-up for 
Sunday : chains coiled up in place, anchors freshly painted, 
brass-work shining like burnished gold, the windows of the 
shops and houses along the water-front clear as crystal, the 
door-sills of wood white from polishing with soap and sand, 
or painted, that the stain of trade might not soil them. 
Upon the quay, where was pointed out to us the house in 
29 



450 COMMERCIAL IMPORTANCE. 

whicli the bold Admiral De Euyter used tb live, the houses, 
though right in the very atmosphere of tar, oakum, and 
ship chandlery, were as neat as a new Philadelphia block 
of houses after a morning's wash. 

But if one wants to get an idea of the enormous trade of 
the counti'y, let him go down to some of the great docks, 
with their crowd of ships of all nations, a perfect forest of 
masts. The great Custom House inclosure of bonded ware- 
houses, or "Entrepot Dok," as it is called, is a wonder, in 
its way, and well worth the tourist's inspection. It is a 
vast inclosed canal, with a depth of water sufficient to ad- 
mit steamers and great square-rigged ships, and has admira- 
bly arranged storehouses or magazines for different descrip- 
tions of merchandise. Here are piled up whole cargoes of 
coffee and sugar, vast heaps of coI*n, cotton, indigo, and 
rice ; cordage and timber from Eussia, tea from China, pe- 
troleum from America, English iron and tin, vast magazines 
of wines and liquors, — in fact, the enormous quantities of 
merchandise from every part of the world fairly staggers 
the beholder, especially if he has been wont to deem Hol- 
land a sort of insignificant little nation, and has it chiefly 
associated in his mind with the product of Dutch cheeses 
and Holland gin. 

But here, with these vast storehouses bearing the names 
of Cuba, America, Africa, London, Smyrna, St. Petersburg, 
Odessa, Archangel, Hamburg, and a score of other producing 
ports, and surrounded by shipping from every part of the 
civilized world, with merchandise iu mountains on every 
side, and hundreds of busy men, the moving to and fro of 
the great barges that are to take their vast loads down the 
Ehine, the Neckar, and the other watercourses, for distribu- 
tion, he feels that he is in the presence of a great commer- 
cial and maritime nation. 

The great dikes and canals of Holland, and their con- 
struction, is a subject that a volume could be written about, 
for they are a marvel and a wonder ofengineering skill, and 



CANALS TO THE SEA. 451 

their improvement aud construction to-da}' seem to be more 
closely studied than ever; and one cannot help questioning 
whether the vast expenditure which is going on will be 
repaid. An examination into the condition of the people, 
liowever, reveals no indication that they are seriously op- 
pressed on this account, though taxation is said to be heavy ; 
but they owe to a large degree the extraordinary fertility of 
their lands, which have been reclaimed from the sea, to the 
system of dykes and drainage ; for it will be remembered 
that the draining of Haarlem Lake gave fifty thousand acres 
of excellent land to Holland. 

And the pathway from Amsterdam to the sea is through 
one of their wonderful canals, — the North Holland Canal, 
which is directly opposite the city on the other side of the 
river Ij, — a canal twenty feet deep and one hundred and 
twenty feet wide. It is a wonderful piece of work. Its 
locks, made of huge timbers driven down through the mud 
into the firm sand far below, are the largest in Europe, and 
its sides are kept from being washed away by the numerous 
craft of every description that pass constantly througli it 
by an ingenious arrangement of a thick growth of yielding 
reeds. This canal is ten feet below the level of the sea, and 
it runs on one level to Helder, a maritime town at the 
northern extremity of North Holland on the North Sea, fifty 
miles away. This great work was finished in 1825, at the 
cost of a million pounds sterling. 

But, after nearly half a century's experience with this 
canal, the commercial activity of the people was such that 
it was deemed insufficient, and they determined to have a 
shorter cut to the North Sea, and at the time of the author's 
visit wei'e actively engaged upon their new North Sea Canal. 
If the reader will look on the map, he will see that the nar- 
rowest part of the isthmus connecting the provinces of 
Northern aud Southern Holland is at a point a short distance 
north of Haarlem, between two little stations on the rail- 
way, Velsen and Bevervijk, at one end of the Ij ; through 



452 A MAGNIFICENT PUBLIC WORK. 

this narrow neck cuts the new canal to the sea, which is 
here not twenty miles from Amsterdam. Then this canal 
will go through the Ij (which, it will be remembered, is a 
Bort of estuary or arm of the Zuyder Zee) directly to the 
city proper, and that portion of the Ij which is not needed 
for water commercial purposes was to be drained for culti- 
vation ; and thus Holland, while opening this great highway 
to the sea for herself, wrests a vast space already occu- 
pied by the waves, from them for agriculture. 

This work on the Ij was in progress at the time of the 
author's visit, and referred to with great enthusiasm by the 
inhabitants ; and well it may be, for it is one of the greatest 
works of the kind of modern time, as a few figures, obtained 
from authentic sources, will show. 

The depth of water in the canal, in the enormous locks 
that separate it from the sea, is twenty-three feet ; the width 
of its surface is over two hundred feet, and nearly fifteen 
thousand acres of excellent land will, be gained by the 
drainage above mentioned. At the sea-shore, the great piers 
or jetties that shelter the entrance, run out three-quarters 
of a mile in length, and their foundations aie thirty feet 
below low-water mark, and the wall is carried eight feet 
above high-water mark. The piers are built of great blocks 
of concrete, twelve feet long by four in breadth, and four 
feet thick. There is twenty-five feet depth of water between 
the piers at low tide. Close to the shore they are three- 
fourths of a mile apart, but the entrance out in the sea is 
but seven hundred and fifty feet wide. The whole work, it 
is estimated, will cost nearly three million pounds sterling. 
The North Holland Canal would admit vessels of but, a 
thousand tons burden. This, however, will admit much 
larger, besides being a shorter route to the ocean. The 
merchant fleet of Holland is nearly two thousand vessels — 
an aggregate of half a million tons ; its imports about 
twenty-five million dollars, and its exports one hundred and 
ninety million dollars. 



DUTCH AGRICULTURE. 453 

It is well for some of us Americans, who like to boast of 
our enterprise and great public works, to look at what the 
people of this little kingdom are doing. Their sturdy perse- 
verance and thrifty, constant industry rather belie the char- 
actor popularly accorded them of being little else than 
smokers of long pipes, drinkers from deep flagons, and fat 
old fellows comfortably dozing away their existence. The 
Dutch have this advantage in their prosecution of agricul- 
ture : that, inasmuch as the rich farming lands have been 
reclaimed from water, they can easily, in dry times, by the 
same system of windmills, watei'- wheels, and ditches, irrigate 
them or add to their fertility ; and the industry with which 
they have applied themselves to agriculture fairly rivals that 
which they displayed in their commercial operations, and has 
for years past steadily increased in importance. Indeed, 
they have become one of the most prominent of European 
agricultural peoples, and their rich fields and pastures re- 
claimed from the waters, sleek and well cared-for cattle, and 
heavy crops, are the admiration of visiting American agricul- 
turists ; and many of these steady old Dutch farmers, in 
their quiet villages, roll up good comfortable fortunes. 

The traveller, among other curious things here in Holland, 
will notice the fire-buckets, as they may be with propriety 
called, which are used at breakfast and tea-time at the hotels 
to keep water hot for tea and coffee. A sort of metal 
bucket with blazing turf, upon which sits the burnished 
copper teapot, full of boiling water, is brought into the 
salle-d-manger, and they are placed at intervals for the use 
of eight or ten guests, so that perhaps there are half a dozen 
of them hissing in the room at once. This turf, of which 
one will find there is quite a large consumption among the 
Dutch for culinary and manufacturing purposes, is the 
product of their own peat bogs. The consumption is said 
to amount to millions of tons per annum. 

Although there is in Holland " water, water everywhere," 
yet, owing to the absence of springs, there is said to be 



454 THE PALACE. 

"not a drop to drink " that is healthful to the tourist. In 
Amsterdam filtered rain-water is used, and also water that 
is brought from a reservoir thirteen miles away, near Haar- 
lem, but this is not recommended ; indeed, one authority- 
says, " Drink anything but water ; " which may account for 
some American travellers' desire to test the drink of the 
country, and their orders for Hollands gin or Schiedam 
schnapps. 

After we had enjoyed our ramble about streets and canals, 
docks and wharves, our valet de place was anxious we should 
see the Palace, a great, dreary-looking building upon a sort 
of square or market-place. The interior was a disappoint- 
ment, as it was a damp sort of musty old place, with noth- 
ing particularly elegant in it except a few rooms in white 
marble. The most striking apartment was the Council 
Hall, — an apartment one hundred and twenty feet long, 
fifty-seven wide, and one hundred feet in height, in which 
were flags and trophies taken in various battles by the 
Dutch, and remnants of the flags of Philip the Second and 
the Duke of Alva. 

The custodian especially directed our attention to Vene- 
tian glass chandeliers, and bustled round, opening closed-up 
shutters of darkened apartments in anticipation of a good 
fee ; but we did the Palace hastily, for upholstery and great 
rooms, after months' experience in viewing them, become 
fatiguing, especially when there is but little historic interest 
attached to them. This palace is on the largest square in 
the city, which is known as the Dam ; so called for being 
on one side of the most ancient dam of the city, which 
takes its name, it will be recollected, from the river Amstel 
— Amstel-Dam. The Exchange, opposite the Palace, is a 
handsome building, with a colounade front and a huge glass- 
covered interior, in which the merchants assemble daily for 
the transaction of business. 

The finest picture-gallery in Holland is that in Amsterdam, 
known as the Eijks Museum, which is celebrated as being a 



eembrandt's night watch. 455 

genuine national collection, four hundred and eight of five 
hundred and fifteen pictures being by Dutch masters ; so that 
tlie art-lover who desires to study the old Dutch masters or 
the Dutch school can here have ample opportunity of so doing. 
The first room that the visitor enters contains two of the 
largest and most celebrated pictures in the collection, — The 
Banquet of the Arquebusiers, by Van der Heist, and Rem- 
brandt's Nigiit Watch. The former is a very spirited figure 
piece, and represents twenty-five arquebusiers tlie size of 
life, in various sitting and standing attitudes, about a boun- 
tifully furnished table. These figures are all portraits of 
men who more than two hundred years ago celebrated the 
conclusion of tlie Peace of Westphalia at a banquet, and 
the artist has thus preserved them for posterity, — a stout, 
heart}', sturd3'-looking company ; their rich velvet doublets 
trimmed with gold, the gusto with which some are enjoj'ing 
their potations, and their free and easy attitudes, either sit- 
ting or standing, being remarkably well executed. 

Rembrandt's " Night Watch," as it is called, is a large 
painting, eleven by fourteen feet in size, and the great mas- 
ter's largest, and by many deemed his most celebrated work. 
It represents a company of arquebusiers emerging from 
their guard-house, and one of its most remarkable features 
is the wonderfully effective manner in which the artist has 
managed the different effects of light and shade. The fig- 
ures are of life-size, and the painting is hung so low as to 
nearly touch the floor, which adds much to its effect, inas- 
much as the sturdy, armed figures seem to be advancing di- 
rectly towards the spectator. The two figures of a captain 
and lieutenant in the middle foreground, clad, the one in a 
black and the other in a buff" costume, are in full sunlight, 
and very effective, while behind, a figure of one of the 
guards adjusting his weappn, and the standard-bearer, are 
very finely rendered. The effect of the twilight or shade 
of the hall from which they are coming, and the setting 
sunlight without, is very well managed ; and the admirable 



456 OUE DUTCH MASTERPIECES. 

arrangement, natural and life-like attitudes of the figures, 
make them to seem verily as if they would step out from 
the frame in their quaint costumes of 1642, and, under the 
command of their captain, take an afternoon march to their 
several positions about the cit}^ for the night. 

In this room are portraits by Van der Heist (artist of the 
first-mentioned picture), of Admiral Coi'tanaer, and others ; 
and in the second room another picture by Rembrandt, of 
the five directors of the Guild of Clothmakers in 1661, also 
portraits. These directors of the old trade associations 
appear to have been as marvellously fond of having pictures 
painted of themselves as our city government oflScials of 
to-day in America are of being photographed in committees, 
for the next large picture I eucountered was a fine one of 
the directors of a spinning-factory, five in number, painted 
in 1669 by Karel du Jardin. 

Now, as the visitor ascends to the other rooms, he begins 
to find numerous gems of the art, such as Ruysdael's beau- 
tiful Waterfall, Jan Steen's beautiful picture of the Back- 
gammon Players and Parrot, Hondekoeter's wonderfully cor- 
rect picture of Ducks, Poultry, and Game, in which his skill 
at " feather " painting is strikingly illustrated. Then we 
come to the beautifully finished pictures of Gerard Duow, 
including his Evening School, — a painting in which the 
eflfects of the light and shade produced by candle-light are 
delineated with singular skill. It is but fourteen by twenty 
inches in size, and, according to one authority, was pur- 
chased for the Museum for thirty-seven hundred dollars, 
while another places the cost at double that amount. Then 
follow several Wouvermans, Ruysdaels, and Cuyps ; Tenier's 
Guard Room ; Ostade's Boors, smoking ; Van Mieris' Poul- 
try Dealer, and other beautifully finished works ; a Land- 
scape and Cattle, by Paul Potter, cost five thousand dollars ; 
Snyder's Game and Fruit ; a Magdalene by Van Dyck ; in 
fact, a collection of old masters' choice works suflScient to 
make the eyes of an art-lover sparkle with delight. 



AN EXCURSION TO BROEK. 457 

There is another museum, that of Van der Hoop, consist- 
ing of about two hundred pictures left by a banker of that 
name, many of which are of rare merit, such as some beauti- 
ful examples of Jan Steen; the Jewish Bride, by Rembrandt; 
a wonderfully executed little painting of a hermit, by Gerard 
Duow, in which the great artist has put the most astonish- 
ing elaboration of details ; portraits by Rubens ; some of 
Ru^'sdael's superb landscapes ; and specimens of Wouver- 
man, Van Dyck, Potter, and other noted artists. 

An excursion that every tourist who can, makes when he 
visits Amsterdam, is out to the Dutch village of Broek. We 
did this with carriage and guide, driving on to a boat that 
carried us across the Ij, after which we had a drive through 
a little bit of Dutch landscape and farming land. At one 
point we passed by the great dikes, high as the top of our 
carriage, that were keeping back the waters from the miles 
of fertile fields, which were plentifully stocked with sleek 
cattle. Then we passed little cross canals, which answered 
as country cross-roads, on which every now and then ap- 
peared a slow-going sort of little omnibus canal-boat, drawn 
by a single horse, conveying Dutch women with big baskets, 
or blue-bloused men with pipes, as passengers. Then we 
passed milkmaids with wooden shoes and snowy caps ; then 
a family boat, slowly towed along by a couple of men ; 
a haj'-boat, that ever and anon had some of its contents 
scraped off into the water, which another little family boat 
not far behind, with a man, boy, and a woman as crew, 
economically rescued from the water as they came to it, 
spreading it out upon their deck to dry. 

Upon some of these canals we noted what appeared to be 
a stagnant green slime covering the surface of the water, 
but which our guide informed us was " the richness and fat- 
ness of the land ; " and so indeed it proved, for we found the 
apparent slime to be green seed, growing as it floated upon 
the water. We halted to view a Dutch farm-house by the 
wayside, the home of a tolerably well-to-do agriculturist, I 



458 A cow SALOON. 

should judge by his surroundings. At any rate, the cow- 
stable that we were first ushered into was a new experience 
to those who had only been accustomed to see the manner 
in which these useful animals are cared for in a New Enar- 
land barn. It being summer, the animals were out in the 
grazing-lands for the season, and the quarters they occupied 
were in a sort of holiday attire. They consisted of a long, 
substantially built building of wood, the windows hung with 
neat white curtains. The interior beams and wood-work were 
either brightly scrubbed or whitewashed, not a cobweb or 
stain to be seen. The row of stalls that ran along the sides, 
the clean brick floor, whitewashed depressed stone gutter at 
the rear of them, and within some the fantastic arrangement 
of sand, which was drawn by a broom into various curious 
figures, were neat and pretty.. In others, the beautiful ar- 
rangement of sea-shells and pebbles, and the display of curi- 
ous old china delft-ware and pottery, would have made a 
collector of bric-a-brac crazy with delight, and cause the in- 
experienced visitor to turn to his guide, and ask if he cor- 
rectly understood him to say this was a cow-stable, thinking 
that the word given might have been Dutch for reception- 
hall. 

This well-appointed place, however, that we were inspect- 
ing, was really the cows' home from November to May, and 
the little apartments, with their curious museums of bric-a- 
brac, are at that season of the year the cows' stalls, but, ac- 
cording to custom, are thus treated in the summer, so that 
the place then becomes a novel sort of reception-hall. In 
the different stalls, besides china and shells, were curious 
old articles of furniture that had evidently been heirlooms in 
the family, such as old brass kettles that shone like burnished 
gold, antique snuffers and candlesticks upon an old black 
carved wood table, some fat old pewter or silver flagons, and 
long brass-hooped casks that looked like big black fingers 
with gold rings on them. 

The flooring of brick, the ventilation and drainage, which 



DUTCH CHEESE MAKING.- 459 

were perfect, depressed gutters for carrying' away the drop- 
pings, and tlie brick drinking-trough that runs in front of 
the stalls for the wliole length, and is supplied by a pump 
at one end, showed that the Dutch farmer understood the 
value of the animals who contributed dairy products, and 
spared no effort for their comfort, in which doubtless ho found 
return in tlie quality and quantity of yield. 

This farmer, like many others in the vicinity, was a large 
cheese producer, and his cheese-room was next this grand 
cow saloon, in fact opening out of it. We were shown into 
it by a buxom, round-armed Dutch woman. The making of 
cheese was not in operation, but we saw the big milk and 
curd tub, curd-knives, wooden benches scoured white, the 
well-known " pine-apple " and " cannon-ball " moulds, the 
press which takes in four to six of these moulds for their 
seven or eight hours' pressing, and finally were conducted 
to the magazine or storehouse of cheeses, where, after being 
salted, thej' are shelved to dry. 

The cheese-factory room was faultlessly clean, the store- 
room of cheeses, where serried rows of them stood in alcoves 
of shelves, like a library of cheeses, was spotless, dry, and 
well lighted. After being thus shelved, I was informed that 
they had to be turned in position every day for a month, 
and after that every alternate day for about the same time. 
Another part of the finishing process is once bathing them 
at a certain time in tepid water and drying in the open air, 
and also their being painted over on the outside with a thin 
coating of linseed-oil. 

The process of making, before all this finishing, is equally 
careful and elaborate, and great care is taken that the apart- 
ments in which they are made and kept are preserved at a 
certain temperature, and perfectly clean and dry. The salt- 
ing, moulding, curdling, and all processes are carried on 
with great thoroughness and exactness, requiring a degree 
of regularity, experience, and patience which, after one has 
it fully explained, causes him to have increased respect for 



460 DUTCH FAEM-HOUSE. 

the Dutch cheese and its manufacturers. The cheese pro- 
duct is somethiug- so enormous that it assumes the position 
of a great industry of the country, and fairly astonishes one 
who looks into the statistics of it for the first time : the 
province of North Holland alone is reported to produce 
twenty-six million pounds of cheese per annum, and it is 
exported to almost every part of the civilized world. 

From the stables and cheese-making apartments we were 
invited into some of the rooms of the farm-house, in which 
dwelt the farmer and his family. Everywhere was visible 
the Dutch characteristic of neatness, showing that scrub- 
bing, polishing, and scouring must occupy no inconsiderable 
portion of a Dutch housewife's time. Floors were white 
and spotless, window-glass transparent as air, brass work 
rivalled gold in brightness, and even nail-heads that were 
visible reflected back the light that fell upon them. The 
furniture in the apartments we visited — a parlor and sleep- 
ing-rooms — was principally rich, dark old mahogany, 
mounted with brass trimmings. Much of it was more than 
two hundred years of age, was admirably kept, and heir- 
looms in the family. A store of delft and curious old china 
teacups and tea-sets, plates, vases, and teapots, such as 
every Dutch family seems to have more or less of, was dis- 
posed about the apartment. 

In the sleeping-rooms, seeing no beds, I was asked to 
guess where they were, but failed to do so correctly, for 
my conductor enlightened me by pulling at a sliding panel 
in the wall, which glided away and revealed three wide 
berths, or bunks, sunk in the place, one above the other, — a 
close, dark recess in which to sleep, and one in which I 
should imagine that it would be diflScult to obtain the 
amount of fresh air during the hours of slumber to render 
sleep refreshing; but the Dutch, in.-doors, seem to pa}'- little 
regard to the admission of air, if one may judge from the 
windows of the rooms of their houses, which are rarely seen 
open, but generally tightly closed, even in warm weather. 



AN IMMACULATE VILLAGE. 461 

Mounting our carriage again, we drove on through the 
flat country, with its canal and windmill landscape, to our 
destination, Brock, which has much celebrity as being one 
of the cleanest towns in the world. We halted at a Dutch 
inn just outside, for no vehicles or horses were admitted into 
this immaculate village, certainly not those of tourists. So 
after a lunch we entered on foot. The town contains about 
fifteen hundred inhabitants, and the streets are paved with 
yellow bricks, set up edgeways, or small stones in the same 
manner, and sometimes in various fantastic figures ; they 
were all scrupulously clean as if just swept up, and I saw 
one of the street-cleaners at work, lie was an old fellow 
who was seated in the middle of the street, and with a jack- 
knife cleaning away some moss and weeds that had made 
their appearance between the interstices of the pavement. 
The houses were of wood, with tiled roofs; they were nicely 
painted, and the little flower-gardens, front yards, and all 
appurtenances in apple-pie order, as if prepared for rigorous 
inspection. 

The tradition is, here, that the front doors of the houses 
are never opened except for a wedding or a funeral. Some 
houses were painted white, some green, and others in fan- 
tastic hues that no one but a Dutchman or Cape Cod sea- 
captain would have thought of ; but the matter of cleanli- 
ness and primness was carried to such an extent that the 
place looked like a toy village that had been set up for 
somebody's amusement. We visited one of the houses, a 
regular curiosity shop of old china, curiosities, and hric-a- 
brae, which is kept as a sort of specimen showhouse for 
visitors, and said to be the oldest house in the town, built 
in 1500, and one which all pay a visit to, as we found by 
the visitors' book of autographs, and where, besides inspect- 
ing the curious Dutch antiquities of tiles, china, furniture, 
plate, and utensils for a moderate fee, you could buy a little 
antique cup and saucer for a big price, or curious old silver 
teaspoons for a much larger figure ; but nevertheless the 



462 THE HAGUE. 

collection was an interesting one of Dutch antiquities, which 
had formed the life-labor of the old couple — brother and 
sister — who exhibited them. 

Their garden was another curiosity, where a giant growth 
of box-plant had been cut into the form of a peacock, bee- 
hive, chairs, a deer, dogs, and various other fantastic shapes, 
and, after a look at these and another ramble through the 
prim little town to a little toy-looking square, with a little 
stone public building set up in one corner of it, and past 
the red, blue, and green houses with their railed-in gardens, 
and by the little canal with its still water covered with green 
scum, we took carriage outside the limits, rode to the steam 
ferry, and were- paddled back to Amsterdam. 

The Hague, or 'S Gravenhage, we reached by railway 
journey via Haarlem, where the high-priced tulips came 
from during the tulip mania ; and Leyden, which is one of 
the oldest towns of Holland. 

The Hague, La Haye, or '/S Gravenhage, the latter being 
the Dutch name, signifying the count's hedge or inclosure, 
was for hundreds of years the aristocratic city of Holland, 
and the favorite residence of the Dutch nobility. It is now 
the chief abiding-place of rich old Dutch merchants who 
have made their fortunes in Japan, Sumatra, Batavia, or 
somewhere else in the Dutch East India possessions, and 
come here to this most fashionable and handsome city in 
Holland to enjoy their wealth, and they do live here sumptu- 
ously and royally. The houses are large and elegant, many 
of them surrounded by beautiful grounds and gardens ; the 
streets are broad and handsome, paved with brick, and some 
of them lined with beautiful shade-trees ; and the city has 
every appearance, as it is, of being a handsomely built and 
well-governed European capital. 

Established at the Bellevue Hotel, we make excursions 
into the somewhat homelike-looking streets, with their great 
shade-trees and clean pavements, and saunter through pleas- 
ant avenues, till we suddenly come to a handsome sheet of 



STATUES AND MONUMENTS. 463 

water in the middle of the town, on which black and white 
swans are sailing-, and having a picturesque little island in 
its centre. This is known as the Vijver, or fish-pond, and 
round and about it is a very pleasant and nfiuch-frequented 
promenade ; and not far from here, in a sort of open square, 
stands a handsome bronze statue of Prince William II., with 
four alleg-orical figures at the sides, representing Peace, 
History, Prosperity, and Glory ; an inscription shows the 
names of Badajos, Salamanca, Vittoria, and other battles at 
which he was present. 

Another fine bronze statue is that of Prince William T., 
who is represented standing with one finger upraised as if 
uttering his favorite motto, which is inscribed in Latin on 
the pedestal, a free translation of which is, " Calm 'mid 
troubled waters ; " while another statue of Prince William I. 
on horseback adorns a space opposite the King's palace, its 
pedestal ornamented with the arms of the provinces under 
his sway. In the city park, known as William's Park, is 
a magnificent national memorial monument commemorating 
the restoration of Dutch independence in 1813, a tall column 
bearing a female figure which stands grasping a banner in 
one hand and a bunch of arrows in the other, while the lion 
of Netherlands is at her feet. The sides of the pedestal are 
beautifully ornamented with bronze figures of distinguished 
men, and bas-reliefs representing memorable events in the 
history of the country. 



464 Rembrandt's school of anatomy. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

The Picture Gallery of the Museum at the Hague contains 
many fine examples of the old masters, and two that are 
great celebrities, namely, Rembrandt's School of Anatomy, 
and Paul Potter's Bull, a life-size cattle-picture. The study 
of art is now considered so necessary a portion of one's edu- 
cation that but few tourists will omit visiting the great gal- 
leries in the European capitals ; and this, like that in Amster- 
dam for the study of the Dutch school, is one that should by 
no means be passed over. It contains nearly three hundred 
pictures. Among them are the productions of such artists 
as Snyder, Wouvermans, Rubens, Rembrandt, Gerard Duow, 
Van Ostade, Jan Steen, Van Dyck, Holbein, and Diirer. Look 
at this list of names, and see what an artistic treat is before 
the art lover in such a collection as this. 

Many who have never seen Rembrandt's picture, The 
School of Anatomy, may have seen engravings of it. It 
represents an anatomist dissecting the left arm of a dead 
body that lies before him, and lecturing thereon to a group 
that stand about him. The figures are all of large size, and 
are eight in number. The lecturer, Nicholas Tulp, sits at the 
table, with one hand holding an anatomical instrument rest- 
ing upon the subject, and the other upraised in the attitude 
of explanation. He has a broad-brimmed hat upon his head, 
but his companions are all uncovered, and the delineations 
of their heads and various expressions of countenance are 
magnificently done, more especially that of one seated, who 
is bending eagerly forward to examine the progress made by 
the demonstrator, and another immediately behind, looking 
over his shoulder. These figures are portraits of members 
of the Guild of Surgeons of Amsterdam ; indeed the picture 



PAUL potter's bull. 465 

was originally painted by the artist for the Anatomical Insti- 
tute of Amsterdam. 

The representation of the corpse upon the dissecting-- 
table is horribly real ; and the surrounding figures, in their 
sombre black garments, and with their serious faces, so 
natural and life-like, have a peculiarly striking effect ; and 
the whole scene possesses a sort of terrible attraction that 
draws the visitor to look at it, perhaps twice or thrice, after 
having concluded a first inspection, much in the same man- 
ner as one might be supposed to be attracted, by morbid 
curiosity, to take another look into a dissecting-room at which 
he had obtained a single surreptitious glance. There can be 
no doubt of the picture's being a most faithful representation ; 
and, as an artistic production, the dullest comprehension 
cannot fail to acknowledge it at first sight. It was bought 
by King William I, for about twenty-five thousand dollars. 

Paul Potter's Bull is simply a magnificently correct 
life-size painting of a young bull, whose clear, liquid eye, 
dewy nostril, and shaggy frontlet are so true to nature, that, 
after gazing at it a while, one would scarcely be surprised 
to see the. young lord of the herd walk forth from the frame 
or stretch forth his shaggy head with challenging roar to 
another bovine champion. Besides the bull in this painting, 
there are two or three sheep, a cow lying down upon the 
green turf, and an old shepherd leaning over a fence, all 
being of life-size, and all of which will bear the closest in- 
spection, — unlike many paintings of our more modern 
school, especially in America, which, we are told, must not 
be closely examined, but at a distance ; imagination, effect 
of lights and shades, and other characteristics (which the 
author, who does not pretend to be an art critic, does not 
recall), giving the true effect to the composition. A large 
proportion of the great masters of the art, however, judg- 
ing from their works, seem to have produced the effects 
themselves, leaving but little for the spectator to supply by 
either distance, light, or imagination. 
30 



466 GEMS OF AET. 

Another picture, which has quite an artistic celebrity, is a 
beautifully finished one by Jan Steen, which is entitled "A 
Eepresentation of Human Life," though why, I cannot im- 
agine, as it represents about twenty persons, old and young, 
apparently in a public house, eating oysters. There is an 
old man dandling a child ; a young woman cooking oysters 
on the half-shell ; a party at table ; man sitting at window, 
being offered wine by servant ; children upon the floor; 
group in the background, — all finely executed, and the 
effects of light and shade most artistically managed, and 
details most carefully presented. This is said to be one of 
the best pictures of this artist, who, besides being a painter, 
was a tavern-keeper ; hence, he enjoyed ample opportunity 
in studying the scenes of tavern-life, which he depicts with 
such genial humor and expression. 

I halted opposite a beautiful picture by Van Ostade, which 
represented a wandering musician opposite a village ale- 
house, and entertaining six or eight persons, — which was 
wonderfully good, with its contrasted cool shade, warm, 
bright sunlight, and clambering vine over the inn-door, and 
beehives and foliage in the background. 

Then, among other gems, was one of Snyder's vegetable 
and game pieces ; a beautiful picture of a poultry-yard by 
Jan Steen, with ducks, pigeons, and fowls, girl and lamb, and 
other figures. Boys blowing Soap Bubbles, by Van Mieris, 
was a most exquisitely finished picture. Then there is a 
Stag Hunt, by Snyder ; Carriage and Horses, by Wouver- 
mans ; Alchemist, by Teniers ; a most beautiful picture by 
Gerard Duow, a perfect gem in finish and elfect, called 
"The Young Housekeeper," of a lady with child in cradle 
and servant ; Rembrandt's fine picture of Presentation in 
the Temple, — one of his earliest works ; a beautifully 
painted Virgin and Child, by Murillo ; Waterfall, by Ruys- 
dael ; portraits by Velasquez, Van Dyck, Holbein, and Al- 
brecht Diirer. 

The portion of the Museum devoted to curiosities con- 



DUTCH HISTORICAL RELICS. 467 

tains a very large collection of relics connected with the 
history of the Netherlands, and an extensive and interesting- 
display of curiosities from the Dutch East India possessions, 
also from India, China, and Japan. 

The Japanese collection was particularly rich and inter- 
esting, containing domestic and warlike instruments, dresses, 
and costumes, tools, vases, and ornaments, beautiful porce- 
lain curiosities, and figures fully clad in rich costumes, and 
representations of manners and customs of the people. A 
similar collection of Chinese curiosities filled a room ; and 
among them were representations of a Chinese court of 
justice and execution, mandarins and other figures in full 
costume. Another room was devoted to costumes, weap- 
ons, implements, and other objects from the Dutch East 
Indies. 

Among the curiosities are relics of William of Orange, 
the founder of Dutch liberty, who was assassinated, in 
1584, at Delft, and the dress worn by him at that time is, 
of course, the most interesting. The armor of Admiral De 
Ruyter is here, and the baton of Admiral Hein, another 
stanch old Dutch sailor, who captured the Spanish silver- 
fleet in 1628, and brought about ten million dollars into 
the Treasury. Another relic of Dutch naval bravery is 
Lieutenant Van Speyk's sword, and fragments of his gun- 
boat, which, when it was driven on the enemy's coast in 
1831, and he was surrounded by his foes and summoned to 
surrender, he blew up by firing his pistol into the powder- 
magazine. The bowl and wooden goblet of the Gucux, or 
" Beggars," the first revolutionary party in the Nether- 
lands, who banded themselves together against Spanish 
rule, and sought the abolition of the Inquisitorial courts, 
are shown : each of the confederates, in token of his ad- 
herence to the band, struck a nail into this wooden goblet. 
Another goblet is shown that was used by General Chasse, 
who defended Antwerp against the French in 1832 ; gold 
chain and medal, presented to Admiral De Ruyter, and very 



468 THE " HOUSE IN THE WOOD." 

many other relics, interesting as a national collection, or to 
those who are well read up in the history of the United 
Netherlands and the Dutch Eepublic. 

A delightful drive is that to the Queen's Palace, or the 
" House in the Wood,'' as it is called, about two miles from 
the city. It is a very plain brick building, but surrounded 
by beautiful grounds. The apartments, which we were per- 
mitted to visit, were very interesting, and beautifully fur- 
nished. 

The Orange Saloon, so called, is a superb eight-sided 
saloon, lighted jDrincipally from a cupola above ; its walls 
are fifty feet in height, and covered with paintings illus- 
trating scenes in the life of Prince Frederick William of 
Orange. 

The Japanese Room was quite a wonder in its display of 
elegant Japanese work, all its fittings and furnishings being 
in that style. The walls were panelled in black and gold 
lacquer, and the centre of the panels filled with rich white 
silk, upon which were embroidered birds, flowers, plants, and 
insects, in bright colors, and in the most elaborate and ele- 
gant manner. Great chandeliers of quaint designs of gilt 
bronze hung down with a sort of Japanese cup-and-saucer 
arrangement for the lights, with gilded brass ornaments 
between. Superb Japanese vases and bronze figures were 
scattered about the saloon ; the chairs were of black lacquer 
and gilt, with superb embroidered white silk cushions, in 
harmony with the wall-upholstery and curtains ; rich porce- 
lain, costly sofas, and lacquered inlaid tables, and silken 
hangings of the richest description, curiosities and wonders 
from the Mikado's empire, were scattered in rich profusion 
on every side. 

The other apartments were beautifully decorated, and 
contained many fine pictures, to which we could give but 
cursory examination. Returning, we met the Queen's car- 
riage, a heavy, gilded affair, without any attendants save 
coachman and footman ; and the Queen, who was its only 



SCHEVENINGEN. 469 

occupant, returned the salutation of our party with a pleasant 
smile and bow. 

Coming back, we paid a brief visit to the Zoological Gar- 
den, which has but a small collection of specimens, and fin- 
ished up the excursion with a drive in the beautiful park 
which is known as Het Bosch, — a favorite resort for the 
wealthier citizens, who enjoy its pleasant avenues as their 
carriages roll over the well-kept roads and beneath the 
shade of its stately trees. 

We must not leave The Hague without visiting Scheven- 
ingen, the chief watering-place in Holland, and which is but 
about two and a half miles distant. Although there were 
three or four conveyances, such as omnibus, canal-boat, and, 
I really believe, a horse railway, we preferred, for comfort's 
sake, to take a private carriage. 

The ride was a most delightful one, over a splendid road, 
which was macadamized, or, I may say more correctly, 
paved, with closely-set, small stones. It was shaded by 
magnificent trees, in double and sometimes triple rows, on 
either side ; and you pass beautiful estates, picturesque 
country houses, and reaches of pleasant views, during the 
brief ride, while the well-kept, dashing equipages that are 
met remind one of the season at Newport or Saratoga, and 
that we are approaching one of the chosen resorts of fashion. 

Scheveningen itself is but a fishing-village, located be- 
hind the dunes, or sand-hills, of the coast of the North Sea ; 
literally behind them, for, as you pass through the village 
or beyond on the route to the fashionable resort itself, the 
beach is hidden, as is the sea, from view by the gradual rise 
of the ground, or sand-dunes. Arriving at the crest of 
these, and you come at once upon great modern watering- 
place hotels, saloons, restaurants, booths, and all those 
modern structures and adjuncts which one finds at fashion- 
able seaside watering-places. At the great hotel of the 
baths, which is the property of The Hague, the crowd of 
visitors was immense, and the attendance as bad, and the 



470 A DUTCH WATERING-PLACE. 

prices as extravag-antly high as they always are at such 
places, before a stranger gets acquainted sufficiently to 
command the first and accommodate himself to the second. 
The great, broad beach — a magnificent one for bathing — 
had a long line of bathing-machines ranged along like a halt 
of the baggage-wagons of an army, only they were wagons 
all with their shafts pointed shoreward, were roofed over, 
had a window in their wooden sides, and their rear end 
adorned with a great hood or screen towards the sea. 
These, as many are aware, are a sort of private bath-room 
on wheels, which is fitted up with pegs, mirrors, towels, 
soap, &c., and are drawn into the water to a certain depth, 
so that the occupants may descend easily from them, take 
their sea-bath, and return to the vehicle and dress entirely 
free from observation, and avoid that long, dripping walk 
from the waves to the bath-house, so dreaded in America by 
ladies who, when in full toilette, may excite admiration, but 
after a sea dip are anything but attractive. 

Then there were whole regiments of bath-chairs, tall, 
covered, and shaded at side and top, made of basket-work, 
and each having a little footstool in front. In these com- 
fortable seats, facing the sea, in bright weather, and shaded 
from the sun, sit visitors reading or chatting in groups, 
ladies knitting worsted work, and gentlemen smoking, or 
looking out to sea with glasses, or enjoying the air and the 
lively scene about them. While we were at the beach, a 
brisk squall set in, followed by a storm of rain, driving 
everj^ one to shelter, and the rising wind sent in the dashing 
billows of the North Sea in great, tumbling, furious waves, 
high upon the beach. 

We prepared with some regret to leave the Hollow 
Land, the country of dikes and dams, windmills, and clean- 
liness. Our first fifteen minutes' railway ride from The 
Hague carried us to Delft, on through Schiedam, with the 
black smoke of its gin-distilleries rising in the clear air, till 
we reached Kotterdam, through which we rode on our way 



MAGNIFICENT EAJLWAT BRIDGE. 471 

en route for Brussels. Rotterdam, what little of it we had 
opportunity of observing, was similar in many respects to 
Amsterdam, although the cleanliness and order was not by 
any means so marked. The great canals, however, seemed 
to admit vessels of the heaviest tonnage to the very centre 
of the city, and their presence, receiving and discharging 
cargoes, as well as that of the numerous huge barges, filled 
with merchandise, in the canals, impresses the visitor with 
the commercial importance of the place. At Dort we had 
a good view of the town and its church, with its peculiar 
large square tower;, and on arrival at Moerdyck admired 
one of the most magnificent railway bridges in the world, 
completed in 1811, to avoid the three ferries which trav- 
ellers were formerly obliged to use. This superb structure 
is about a mile and two-thirds in length, crosses an arm of 
the sea at this point, and is upheld by fourteen magnificent 
arches, each having a span of three hundred and thirty feet. 
The iron bridge itself is upheld by fourteen stone buttresses, 
each fifty feet long and ten feet wide. At Breda we had 
an outside view of the Protestant church, which has a 
beautiful spire three hundred and sixty-five feet in height ; 
and from here continued our journey by rail on to Antwerp, 
and thence to Brussels, the Paris of Belgium. 

I was awakened next morning by the cheerful notes of a 
bugle, plajnng that old-fashioned melody, " The Mellow 
Horn," the words of which begin, — 

"At dawn Aurora gayly breaks 
In all her proud attire ; " 

and looking forth from my casement, saw the well-remem- 
bered English stage-coach, with its spanking team of grays, 
drive into the Place Royale and halt near the statue of 
Godfrey de Bouillon for a freight of passengers Tor the field 
of Waterloo, exactly as I had before seen it, and as though 
it were but yesterday, instead of six years previously, that 
I had looked upon the same scene, and figured as one of 



472 BACK TO PARIS. 

the interested actors in it, as I climbed to the roof, eager 
to visit the scene where the fate of the modern C»sar was 
finally decided. But we are to rest here for a brief period ; 
and the sights having all been inspected at a previous visit, 
there is but a lounge into the picture-stores and galleries, 
and an inspection there of the latest productions of Robie 
and Verboekhoeven ; or the ladies to visit Julie Everaert's 
parlors at 4 Place Belliard Rue Royale, to look at and buy 
of her beautiful lace work, before we once more take train 
for the gay capital of France, 

Arrived in Paris, and, as the reader has already inferred, 
our tour Abroad Again is over ; and yet, much as has been 
seen, and described in these pages during the six months' 
experiences here set down, the lover of travel will doubtless, 
if he goes over the same routes and visits the same sights, 
experience in some degree the feeling of the author, who 
found the time far too short to see all as he could wish to 
see it. 

The author has endeavored in this work, like his former 
one of a similar character, to give faithful descriptions of 
the sights and scenes in the various localities visited, and 
has supplied many details of information which he himself 
suffered from the want of while abroad, and which have 
been obtained in the preparation of these papers by the 
consultation of numerous authorities since his return. Es- 
pecially was this the case in describing the Vatican and 
other museums, in many instances where neither guide- 
books nor local catalogue gave any information beyond the 
bare title of an object which often proved to be one which 
a few explanatory lines rendered extremely interesting. 

The space of time occupied in making this tour may of 
course be materially shortened ; indeed, some tourists ac- 
complish a journey to nearly if not all the places that the 
author has described in the "Over the Ocean " and "Abroad 
Again " papers, which cover about thirteen months of dili- 



GUIDE BOOKS. 473 

gent travel, in less than half that time. But it may well 
be questioned if the knowledge thus gained is of permanent 
benefit. 

A journey to Europe the average American now puts 
down as one of the probabilities instead of the possibilities 
of his life, and the annual influx of American tourists has 
come to be so looked and prepared for of late years by the 
hotel-keepers and shop-keepers of the principal European 
capitals, that any diminution of the number of money- 
spending visitors is noted and felt. A question that is fre- 
quently asked by new tourists, and one that is in some 
respects difficult to answer, is, What is the best guide-book 
to use ? The requirements of tourists vary so much, owing 
to differences of taste and education, that such as might be 
of value to one would be cumbersome to another. For 
practical usefulness and reliability as regards hotels, routes, 
charges, notable sights, &c., Baedeker's Guides I think to 
be the best of the foreign publications. Murray's are fuller 
in description, give criticisms, extracts from noted writers, 
and in that respect furnish material for callow correspond- 
ents to draw from for home letters, but they are cumber- 
some. Bradshaw's Continental Handbook is such a puzzle, 
that it is a common expression that you must have a guide 
to Bradshaw to understand it. Of the American guide- 
books of Europe, Fetridge's, pxxblished by Harper and 
Brothers, is rich in maps and other information, which is 
corrected yearly by the author. "The Satchel Guide," 
published by Hurd & Houghton, of Boston, also corrected 
every year, will however be found a model of compactness 
and correctness to those who desire to economize space. 
D. Appleton & Co., of New York, have published a series 
of good illustrated hand-books. These different descrip- 
tions are those now most used by travellers, although each 
year brings new competitors into the field. 

That to see sights thoroughly, and especially thoroughly 
enough to make notes of them and write a book thereon. 



474 ■ GOODBYE TO THE EEADEE. 

requires labor of no slight character, there is no denying. 
The Bard of Avon writes, however, " The labor we delight 
in physics pain ; " so the pleasure of vividly recalling 
enjoyable scenes, years after they have been witnessed, for 
our own gratification as well as that of others, is the com- 
pensation in some degree derived for making a business of 
one's sight-seeing. 

The author, in taking leave of the readers who have fol- 
lowed him through this second series of experiences, will 
feel more than gratified if he has succeeded in imparting 
information that will be of practical service to those about 
to make the journey, or if he has recalled pleasant memories 
to such as have visited the localities referred to in these 
pages. Or if he has been still more fortunate in enabling 
such as stay at home, to picture correctly in imagination the 
sights and scenes he has undertaken to desci'ibe. 



THE END. 



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